


Illuminated

by brookebond



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - College/University, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-04
Updated: 2017-04-15
Packaged: 2018-09-14 09:56:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 24,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9175180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brookebond/pseuds/brookebond
Summary: Arthur is fluent in four different languages. He's got a promising career ahead of him if he can just make it through his senior year at college. Falling in love with a stupid theatre nerd isn't part of the plan.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is unbeta'd so it's probably riddled with errors. Sorry!
> 
> Unfortunately, I'm not fluent in anything but English and really bad jokes. So forgive me for any mistakes with the translations. But, if anyone that does speak fluent French, Spanish, or German would like to correct anything, please let me know. I'd love the help!
> 
> I'm totally unfamiliar with how American colleges work, so I've taken some artistic license. Forgive me for the errors.

“Non, ce pas... Merde…” Arthur dragged his fingers through his hair. “Podría haber jurado que lo guardé. Esto me pondrá semanas atrás.”

“Arthur.”

“Nein, schau. Ich habe die ganze Nacht daran gearbeitet und jetzt ist es weg.”

“Ok. It’s creepy when you get all German on me.” Arthur clamped his mouth shut, unaware that he had even slipped into another language. “Plus, you’ve attracted an audience.”

Arthur inhaled and glanced over his shoulder. It was true. Most of the coffee shop was now staring at him. Some looked annoyed, others scared.

“Oh, that one’s kinda cute.”

“Que?”

Ariadne rolled her eyes at him, gesturing with a gentle nod of her head towards the person she meant.

He had to look over the top of his glasses, but his breath caught when his eyes met that of the stranger. From this distance, it was impossible for Arthur to tell what colour they were. His only thought was that it would be nice to find out. Arthur let his gaze fall to the stranger’s lips. They were plush and downright sinful. Arthur watched the stranger’s tongue travel across his lips. Just watching that simple action has Arthur shifting in his seat.

“Shit. We’re gonna be late.”

“Hmmm?”

“Class, Arthur. You can ogle him another day,” Ariadne joked as she started shoving books into her bag.

“Oh.” Arthur dragged his gaze from the stranger and watched Ariadne for a few seconds. “Oh. Shit.” Arthur stood, grabbing his stuff. “Let’s go.” Arthur stuffed his laptop into his satchel and walked out of the coffee shop. Leaving the stranger with beautiful eyes behind.

* * *

Arthur cracked his neck and sighed. He’d been in the coffee shop all morning and was on his third cup of coffee. Well, he was on the dregs of his third coffee and was contemplating ordering a fourth.

It was normal for Arthur to work in the coffee shop during the semester. He’d discovered this place late in his sophomore year and had come back at least three times a week ever since. There was something about the shop that made Arthur work better. He didn’t always work there, but sometimes it felt like he did. Plus it was a bonus that he could get away from his suitemate for a few hours. The chatter in the coffee shop was easy to deal with. Listening to whatever shit music his suitemate was playing was painful.

Just as Arthur was settling back in to start typing again, the door jingling open drew his attention. He almost expected Ariadne to come sauntering through the door. She had been harassing him via text all morning. But Arthur found himself staring at the stranger from the other day.

It had taken Arthur four days to get the courage to go back to the coffee shop after his multilingual outburst. Thankfully, no one seemed to remember it. But Arthur had a feeling that the universe hadn’t forgotten.

Arthur shifted in his seat so he could get a better view of the counter. Maybe it was because he was uncomfortable. It was more likely because he wanted to continue looking at the pretty stranger.

Pushing up the sleeves of his sweater, Arthur focused in on his laptop again. Every now and then sneaking glances over the top of it.

It was during one of these glances that Arthur spotted the stranger looking at him. A flush crept over his cheeks as he tried to focus on his laptop.

“Excuse me?”

Arthur twitched in his seat, afraid that the stranger had come over.

“This is for you.” Arthur didn’t bother to look at the barista as they placed a cup of coffee in front of him on top of a napkin.

“I didn’t order anything.”

“I know.” The barista walked away, ignoring Arthur as he tried to wave them down.

Arthur huffed out a breath. He wasn’t going to drink the coffee. That would be ridiculous. Some stranger in this shop bought him a coffee. Arthur spared a cursory glance around the shop, just on the off chance he actually knew someone there. But, other than the pretty stranger, Arthur didn’t recognize anyone.

Choosing to ignore the coffee, Arthur focused on his laptop. His research paper open. It was still early in the year and Arthur hadn’t settled on a research topic yet. But he had been trying. Mostly his paper consisted of shorthand notes following different trains of thought. They were all something Arthur wanted to follow. It was making it difficult to choose just one topic.

Arthur picked up the coffee, deciding not to let it go to waste. As he took a sip, Arthur spotted something written on the napkin. Drawing his brows together, Arthur picked up the napkin, reading and then re-reading it.  

> _You should try decaf.  
>  _ _E._

Arthur’s eyes darted to the barista. Figuring the note was some subtle hint to his mini meltdown the other day. Feeling his cheeks flush, Arthur stuffed his things back into his satchel. Leaving the napkin and an almost full cup of coffee behind.

* * *

Arthur collapsed against the door, thankful to be out of the deluge. He hadn’t thought the weather was that bad. But halfway to the coffee shop, the rain had picked up. Now Arthur was dripping wet, leaving an unfortunate puddle right inside the coffee shop.

Since the rain had thrown off his day, Arthur treated himself to a caramel latte with a double shot of coffee. It was one of the few things he wouldn’t admit to any of his friends that he liked. But Ariadne wasn’t there. What she didn’t know wouldn’t hurt Arthur. Or get him teased mercilessly.

After taking a few sips of his coffee, Arthur felt ready to get to work. He was still pretty wet but Arthur figured focusing on his paper would take his mind off the dampness.

Half an hour later, Arthur was tapping away on his laptop. He’d found inspiration ten minutes in and was desperate to get all his thoughts out before it left him.

Arthur was vaguely aware of muttering to himself. It was something he usually did when he was in the zone. Talking to himself was part of his thought process and it helped to find where the holes in his ideas were.

Midway through a sentence, a voice broke through Arthur’s concentration. “Do you always do that?”

Arthur’s fingers stuttered on the keyboard as he glanced up at the intruder. His gaze locked with the baristas. Her mouth was tugging into a small smile as Arthur hummed and ran a hand through his hair.

“Too loud?”

The barista shook her head. “Just bringing you a drink.”

“I didn’t order anything.”

“Someone else did.” She placed the drink on his table on top of a napkin again.

Arthur noticed that it was another caramel latte and couldn’t help the smile that played on his lips. It was kinda creepy that someone in the coffee shop was buying him drinks. But Arthur couldn’t help but think it was sort of sweet as well. He’d have to find out who was doing it. So he could thank them. For now, though, he would savour the coffee and keep working on his paper.

It wasn’t until he was halfway through the coffee that Arthur realized there was another note. It was a sign of how focused he had been. But Arthur felt a little rude for not noticing it sooner.

There were only a few words on the napkin but they still brought a smile to his lips and a flush to his cheeks. 

> _You (Yes you) need to stop being so adorable.  
>  _ _E._

It was weird how a stupid note from a stranger made Arthur feel giddy. Even though he tried to focus on his paper, Arthur’s gaze was continuously drawn back to the note.

After twenty minutes of not actually working, Arthur gave up and started packing up his stuff. When everything was in his bag, Arthur paused, looking down at the table. He hesitated a moment before picking up the note and stuffing it into his bag as well.

* * *

Every time Arthur is at the coffee shop he gets a coffee with a note. The notes had been getting more and more flirtatious. Arthur didn’t want to admit it, but the notes had become a highlight of his day.

Waiting in line two weeks after getting the first note, Arthur decided to take a bold step. He figured the barista knew who was buying drinks for him. They just weren’t willing to part with the information. Arthur wondered if the stranger had bought their secrecy.

When it was his turn to order, Arthur went through the motions. He got his usual boring black coffee and waited at the counter for his order. He pulled a pen from his bag and grabbed a satchel. Arthur scrawled a quick note on a napkin, finishing just as his name was called. 

> _Can I buy you a drink?  
>  _ _AH._

Before he could second-guess himself, Arthur took his coffee and passed the napkin to the barista.

“If the person buying me coffee comes in, could you give them this?” Arthur bolted from the counter before he could get a response. It was humiliating enough that he had gone red at the action, he didn’t need anyone else noticing.

An hour and two coffees later, Arthur had forgotten about the note he had written. Until the barista arrived at his table with a coffee and a napkin. Arthur’s eyes lit up and he sat a little straighter. Whoever was buying him drinks was in the coffee shop right now.

Arthur flashed a tight smile at the barista and waited until she was gone before getting the note from under the cup. 

> _No need to ask, darling.  
>  _ _E._

Running a finger along his lip, Arthur thought about his next move. He was being called out and he had two options. Continue playing along or leave like a coward. It had been months since anyone had shown an interest in him and Arthur wasn’t ready to give that up yet.

He scribbled a reply on the napkin and took it to the counter.

“So-”

“Your reply? You know, you could take it to him yourself.”

Arthur bit down on his lip. Him. That was a good development. He wouldn’t have to let down some poor girl.

“No, see, it’s not…” The barista sighed, holding out her hand for the note. “Send a drink over as well. Coffee.”

“He doesn’t actually drink coffee.”

“Oh… Probably shouldn’t send coffee then.” Arthur smiled tightly, nodded at the barista and turned to go back to his table.

“Tea.” Arthur half turned back, his brows drawn together. “He drinks tea,” she elaborated.

“Ok.” Arthur smiled and paid for the drink.

He returned to his table, wondering who in their right mind went to a _coffee_ shop and ordered tea.

Once Arthur settled back at his table, he watched the barista. He tapped his fingers against the table, not doing a good of looking calm and collected. If he was honest with himself, he was giddy. Finally, he would find out who was behind it all.

It didn’t take the barista long to make the cup of tea and before Arthur was ready, she was off. Cup of tea and his note in her hands.

Arthur almost called out for her to forget it. He wasn’t ready to find out. It was stupid. It was quite possibly the worst decision Arthur had ever made.

But no sound made it out of Arthur’s mouth.

The barista stopped and set the tea and note on the table. The person looked up, surprised at the interruption.

From his spot in the coffee shop, Arthur could only make out the profile of the strange. It was familiar. But Arthur only managed to put two and two together when the stranger looked over, grinning at him. The same stranger he had watched lick those sinful lips when Arthur had had his multilingual meltdown.

Embarrassed, Arthur started shoving his laptop and notebooks into his bag. This was without a doubt the stupidest decision he had ever made. He had to get out of there. Now.

Arthur paused, slinging his satchel over his shoulder. He was going to have to walk straight past the stranger’s table to leave; which was going to make him look like a total coward. He should be alright with that, shouldn’t he? He was a coward. Clearly. Running away in embarrassment over something that had happened weeks ago.

Arthur bit down on his lower lip, his mind going a mile a minute as he thought about what he should do. He was still standing there like an idiot when the stranger appeared in front of him. Arthur startled, his hand flailing for the table so he didn’t fall over.

Up close, the stranger was more intimidating than Arthur had anticipated. His throat dried up and he couldn’t get a word out. He couldn’t stop looking at those plush lips that were smirking at him.

“Thank you for the tea, darling.”

Arthur made an incomprehensible noise as he met the stranger’s eyes. This guy was British. Arthur wondered if he had dreamed this guy up. Somehow his perfect type of guy was standing right in front of him.

“May I?” He asked, gesturing the seats.

Arthur nodded, taking a seat after the stranger settled in opposite him.

“Would it be rather forward to ask your name?”

“A-Arthur,” he croaked.

“Arthur,” the stranger purred. Arthur would have done anything to hear his name said like that again. “Pleasure to meet you. I’m Eames.”

Eames. Arthur couldn’t decide if that name suited him or not. It was strange and sounded vaguely like a surname.

“So, you come here often?”

Arthur choked out a laugh. “Seriously? Does that ever work?”

Eames flashed a toothy grin, distracting Arthur with his endearingly crooked teeth. Arthur was actually grateful there was something about this guy that wasn’t absolutely perfect. Somehow this relaxed Arthur a little. This imperfection made Eames seem a little less out of reach.

“You never know.” Eames winked, folding his arms over his chest. “You are in here a lot, though.”

“Yeah, well, I live with an uncultured idiot.”

Eames chuckled. “So you sit here, drinking things that sound like a cause of death.”

“They taste good,” Arthur prickled.

“And you talk to yourself. Rarely in English.”

“Ah… Yes…” Arthur rubbed the back of his neck, dropping his gaze.

“How many do you speak?”

“Four.”

Eames let out a low whistle.

Most people are intimidated when Arthur reveals that about himself. Eames though, looked impressed. Arthur let himself smile at that. Not a shy smile. His ‘I’m very proud of myself’ smile.

“Dimples.” Eames’ voice softened, like he was talking more to himself than Arthur.

Arthur didn’t know how to respond to that. It wasn’t exactly a conversation starter.

A silence settled over them. It wasn’t an uncomfortable silence and that surprised Arthur. They’d just met and somehow Arthur didn’t feel like he had to try and fill the silence with inane chatter. It was a nice change.

“I’ve got somewhere to be,” Eames started, scrawling on a napkin as he spoke. “Give me a call. Maybe we can do this again sometime.” Eames pushed the napkin to Arthur’s side of the table as he stood. “Lovely meeting you, darling.”

Arthur watched silently as Eames walked out of the coffee shop, leaving him with a parting wink before disappearing. He knew he was blushing. Could feel the heat warming his cheeks, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. That had been the best and worst moment of his life. Well, that may have been pushing it a little. But it was certainly in Arthur’s top ten best moments.

Glancing at the table, Arthur smoothed out the napkin. Staring at the small black numbers, he debated with himself. Not sure what he should do. On one hand, Eames was easily the hottest guy he had ever had the pleasure of talking to. On the other hand, Arthur was an awkward language aficionado that hadn’t had a date since freshman year.

Telling himself he could figure it all out later, Arthur pulled out his phone and entered Eames’ number. Then promptly left the coffee shop, taking the napkin with him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:  
> Non, ce pas... Merde… - - Not, it's not... Shit...  
> Podría haber jurado que lo guardé. Esto me pondrá semanas atrás. - - I could have sworn I saved it. This is gonna set me back weeks.  
> Nein, schau. Ich habe die ganze Nacht daran gearbeitet und jetzt ist es weg. - - No, look. I spent the whole night working on it and now it's gone.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I dunno... Something happened in this chapter, I think.  
> Sorry for any errors, it's sort of edited.
> 
> I'm going to try and update once a week, hopefully twice if I can.  
> We'll see.

“I’m just saying, you could have lived with me.”  
“I really couldn’t have.”

“Yes. It would have been amazing. 3am mac and cheese. Pillow forts. It would have been the dream,” Ariadne sighed.

“We would kill each other,” Arthur pointed out, half-heartedly tapping away at his laptop.

Ariadne had been in his room for most of the afternoon. They were supposed to study. Not exactly together, just in the same room. But she hadn’t brought any books with her and had spent the last two hours flipping through the only art book Arthur owned.

“You’re probably right. Can I borrow a pen?”

“On my desk.” Arthur frowned at Ariadne, watching as she came over and started rifling through the mess on his desk. “Please don’t doodle in another book.” It was a disturbing habit Arthur had only found out about after she had defiled four of his books.

“You know, for an impeccable dresser, you’re a fucking slob.”

Arthur ignored the barb despite its truth. It was one thing to think it about yourself. He wasn’t going to admit it to anyone else.

“What’s this?” Out of the corner of his eye, Arthur could see Ariadne holding a napkin. It took a few seconds for him to remember just what was on it.

“Nothing.” He tried to grab the napkin from Ariadne but she pulled out his reach.

“Is that so?”

“Yes.” Arthur stood from his desk. He could usually use his height to an advantage but Ariadne was like a dog with a bone.

“It’s a phone number.”

“Yes.”

“Whose number is it?”

Arthur turned from Ariadne, trying to hide his blush.

“Arthur?”

“Hmmm…” he answered noncommittally.

“Whose number is it?”

“It’s not important,” he replied, sitting at his desk again. Arthur knew that was futile to try and dodge Ariadne when he smelled blood. It wouldn’t stop him from trying, though.

“You’re blushing,” she teased, leaning against his desk.

“Am not.” Arthur willed his cheeks to cool.

“Maybe I should call it.”

When Ariadne pulled her phone from her pocket, Arthur was a flurry of limbs, knocking his chair over as he relieved Ariadne of her phone. “No,” he huffed.

She didn’t put up much of a fight. In truth, getting the phone from Ariadne had been too easy. Arthur narrowed his eyes at his best friend.

“Hey now.” Ariadne held up her hands, the napkin still clutched in her right one. “I was just thinking... Someone went through the effort of giving you their number. The _least_ you could do is actually use it.”

Arthur knew she was right. He’d even tried a few times. He got as far as almost hitting send once. But he chickened out every time and now it had been a week since Eames had given Arthur his number. Arthur hadn’t been to the coffee shop since. He was too scared of himself to think of going back and finding Eames there.

Arthur had thought about what he might do if he did go back. He imagined that he would be suave, not a fumbling mess like the last time. Arthur liked to picture himself bolder than he was. In his head, he could come up with a multitude of scenarios that would impress Eames. But that’s all they were, scenarios in his head that would never play out.

“Stop overthinking it. Just text the poor guy.” Ariadne held Arthur’s phone under his nose, jolting him from his thoughts.

“I missed my chance.”

“Text him Arthur. Or I’ll do it for you,” Ariadne threatened as she opened up a new message on his phone and started typing.

Arthur’s mind took a half second too long to register what Ariadne was doing. He scrambled for the phone but the unmistakeable sound of a message being sent filled his ears. His eyes widened, looking from Ariadne to the phone. “What did you do?” He croaked.

“Just breaking the ice for you,” she smirked, passing the phone to Arthur before throwing herself onto his bed.

Arthur stared at his phone, the message Ariadne had sent still open. 

> _I’ve haven’t been able to stop thinking about you. AH_

“Ari… I hate you,” Arthur huffed, sinking into his chair.

“No you don’t,” she sang in response.

Arthur’s fingers hovered over the keyboard on his phone. He could send another text saying that it was his friend playing a joke. Or he could apologize for such a stupid text. Neither of which would make him come off any better. Deciding to just leave it alone, Arthur locked the phone and sat it on his desk next to him.

A text came through, the phone vibrating just as Arthur’s fingers left the phone. He shot a panicked look over at Ariadne whose gaze was solely on the phone.

The phone vibrated again while both of them were staring it.

“Check it,” Ariadne urged. She’d shifted to the edge of the bed when the second text came through and looked like she might just check the phone if Arthur didn’t do anything.

Arthur picked up the phone and unlocked it. The messaging app was still open with two new texts from Eames.

> _Arthur, I’m flattered._
> 
> _Anything in particular?_

“He wants to know what I’ve been thinking. Why did you have to send that?” Arthur groaned.

“Well, I could have just sent him one of those nude pics you have of yourself--”

“How do you know about those?”

“But I thought this would be easier on you. You could still send him one of those pics. I’m sure he’d appreciate it.”

“Why am I friends with you?”

“Shut up and text him back.”

Arthur stared at the screen, the little cursor blinking at him teasingly. He wasn’t a flirty person even though he could speak two romance languages fluently. The romance part was out of his grasp. So, instead of romance, Arthur decided to type the first thing that came to his mind.

> _Why do you go to a coffee shop and order tea?_

As the message sent, Arthur wished he could take it back. It was a stupid question. Why couldn’t he have come up with something funny? The phone vibrated in his hand mid-thought. 

> _Now you’re asking the real questions._

Arthur typed a quick reply before his mind could catch up with his fingers.

> _What does that even mean?_

“Oh, quick responses. Someone must be interested,” Ariadne teased.

Arthur flushed and practically threw his phone on the desk. “Shut up.”

“I was talking about him,” she said, raising her brows at him.

“You think so?”

“Definitely. You should see if he’s free tonight.”

Arthur shook his head as Eames’ reply came through. He picked up the phone, smiling as he read the text.

> _That would be telling, darling._

There wasn’t anything about it in particular that made Arthur smile, except perhaps the darling part. The texts so far hadn’t really made sense but Arthur found that he didn’t mind. It was fun.

“You should definitely ask him out.” Ariadne slid off the bed and leaned against Arthur’s desk. “You’ve got this stupid grin on your face. I can see your dimples.”

Arthur sucked in his cheeks, trying to school his features into something sterner. But Ariadne burst out laughing at his attempt, making Arthur grin more.

“Stop overthinking and do it. It’ll be good for you. Plus it’ll get you out of coming to the exhibition with me.”

It was a good point. Arthur had been trying to come up with a decent reason for why he couldn’t go with her. But everything had seemed flimsy. Going on a date with Eames would be real.

Arthur didn’t let himself time to think himself out of it. Instead, he just typed out the message as fast as he could without errors and sent it. 

> _Do you want to do something tonight?_

Arthur took a deep breath as his phone made the message sent noise. He allowed himself ten seconds of panic before putting his phone on the desk.

“It’s not a big deal,” Arthur muttered to himself. It was hard to believe it, though. He had never once been the guy to initiate things. It was easier to work out where he stood when someone else made the first move. Rationally, Arthur knew it wasn’t a big deal either way. But his heart still pounded against his chest.

Thankfully his phone vibrated before Arthur could slide into a full blown anxiety meltdown.

> _That would be lovely. Sadly, I already have plans._

Arthur read the text, his stomach dropping. Even though he was worried Eames would say yes, he hadn’t thought he would say no.

Another text came through, popping up at the top of the screen.

> _Raincheck?_

Arthur smiled wryly and replied with a confidence he sure as shit was not feeling.

> _Definitely._

“Well, now I _have_ to take you to the exhibition.”  
“No, Ari. I’ve got that paper to work on.”

“It’s not even due for two more weeks. Come on. I can’t let you sit here and wallow. That would be pathetic. You’re coming with me. Twenty minutes and you had better be ready.”

Ariadne left Arthur standing in front of his wardrobe. It would be easy to pick out an outfit that was sophisticated. Most of his wardrobe was sophisticated. Button up shirts and dress pants were a staple. But he didn’t know what type of exhibition Ariadne was dragging him to. Formal. Casual. Less than casual.

Arthur frowned at his wardrobe, cursing Ariadne for being the vaguest person he had ever known.

It took fifteen minutes for him to settle a baby blue dress shirt (with the sleeves rolled to his elbows), black slacks (that were snug in all the right places) and a pair of black converse. The converse were his go-to items to stop an outfit looking too formal.

Arthur used his remaining time to style his hair. It was starting to get a little long but he managed to get it all slicked back off his face.

Just as Arthur finished his hair, Ariadne announced herself at the suite door.

“Come now, your chariot awaits,” she called as Arthur grabbed his phone and keys, ignoring the way they ruined the line of his pants.

* * *

Arthur stared at the painting. He drew his brows together as he tilted his head. The new angle didn’t make the piece look any better so Arthur gave up and moved to the next one.

They had been at the exhibit for twenty minutes already and Arthur had lost Ariadne in the first five. Usually, he didn’t mind but tonight Arthur would have liked the distraction. As it was, he had basically checked his phone every minute thinking that he had felt it vibrate. It was just wishful thinking. Every time he checked, there weren’t any messages. He almost expected his phone to turn itself off so it wouldn’t have to deal with the second-hand embarrassment anymore.

Sighing softly, Arthur turned from the art and spotted Ariadne waving at him as she moved through the crowd.

“Can you believe how many people came?” Arthur smiled at her enthusiasm. This was the part he enjoyed the most about going to Ariadne’s art shows. “Come with me,” she said as she started dragging Arthur through the crowd to where she had been.

Arthur got brief flashes of a few pieces through the crowd. All of it was the usual stuff. Someone thinking they could be the next Jackson Pollock or Rothko. Someone thinking they were above it all by using some abstract piece of trash to represent their life. Most of it made Arthur’s head hurt. He had to admit, though, some of the pieces were actually alright.

That was right up until a black and white photograph caught his eye. Arthur stopped, letting Ariadne’s hands fall away from him as she turned to ask what was wrong. He didn’t answer. He moved through the crowd, aware of some people calling him an asshole for pushing through. But he didn’t care. All he wanted was to get a better look at that picture because he could swear he recognized the subject.

It turned out that Arthur did know the subject. Not in the biblical sense, but more in the way that they had flirted through messages at the coffee shop.

Eames was in profile, naked. Well, Arthur assumed he was naked because the picture stopped dangerously low on Eames’ hips. Arthur’s eyes slowly moved across the image, taking in the way Eames’ fingers lightly touched his lips, the tattoos, the curve of his back… Arthur could have stared at the picture all night, he was sure. Probably could have let his imagination fill in the missing parts of the picture as well.

He was in his own little world so he didn’t notice someone join him.

“See something you like?” Arthur jumped. He took a step away from the picture and looked at the person next to him.

“Uh…” Arthur swallowed, his cheeks flushing as he came face to face with Eames. Eames in a leather jacket, looking like a boy from the wrong part of town. “I thought you had plans,” he blurted out.

Eames smiled lazily. “Yes, Arthur.”

It took Arthur longer than he would like to admit to realize that obviously, Eames’ plans had been to go to the exhibition. It made perfect sense the more Arthur thought about it. One of the artists had used Eames as a model. Of course he would be there.

“Yes… Right.” Arthur coughed, scratching the back of his neck. “I should go… find my friend.”

“She seems a little preoccupied.” Eames gestured to Ariadne. Arthur wanted to ask how Eames knew that she was his friend, but he got distracted by the way Ariadne was throwing her head back into a full-bodied laugh with her hand on the arm of some guy. Arthur frowned, wondering if she had mentioned anyone lately but he couldn’t remember. He was going to have to ask her later. But that still left him with nowhere to run.

Arthur quirked up the corner of his mouth at Eames. “Looks like it.” He figured it could have been worse. That was until he remembered the picture they were standing next to. Arthur stuck a finger in his collar, trying to get a little more air as he valiantly tried to ignore the picture.

“So what do you think?”

“Think?”

“Of the picture.” Eames gestured at the image of himself and took a step back. He cocked his head to the side, his lips thinning as he assessed. “It’s kinda forward, yeah? Leave something for the imagination.”

“I dunno.” Arthur stepped back so he was beside Eames, crossing his arms as he tried to look at the image objectively. “There’s plenty for the imagination.”

“Got a good imagination then?”

Arthur hummed his assent. It only took a few seconds for his ears to turn pink when he realized what he’d agreed to. “Oh… No... Not really,” he mumbled, trying to backtrack to when he wasn’t a flustered idiot.

“By all means, darling, imagine away,” Eames said with a twitch of his lips. It was hard to tell if Eames was teasing or encouraging him.

Arthur’s thoughts were interrupted by a small body slamming into him. “Arthur, it’s time to go,” Ariadne said in one hurried breath.

“What? Why?”

“No time for questions. Let’s go.” Ariadne grabbed Arthur’s hand and started dragging him away before he could fight it.

Just as the crowd started to swallow them, Arthur glanced over his shoulder. Eames was watching him with a smile. Arthur felt an answering smile grow on his face.

The cool night air sobered Arthur up enough to focus on Ariadne. “What the hell was that?” Arthur grabbed at Ariadne’s arm, trying to stop her walking. “Ari,” he tried again as she pulled her arm free. Arthur sighed heavily, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

They both settled into silence as they walked. The silence remained for the entirety of the walk to Arthur’s suite. It wasn’t until they were inside and Ariadne was on the couch that Arthur finally gave in. “You going to talk now?” Arthur leaned against the door of his suite, watching Ariadne lean her head against the back of the couch.

“Who was that guy you were talking to?”

"Oh no you don't. We’re not talking about me. You’re going to tell me what the hell happened back there.”

Ariadne groaned and dragged a hand down her face. “I got cornered. There’s this guy that I sort of maybe quite possibly have a thing for. And he was there. And he talked to me. And it was going so well.” Ariadne groaned again. “And he asked me out.”

“That’s usually a good thing.”

“I’m sure it usually is.”

“So what? He asked you out and you bolted?” Arthur noticed the slight nod Ariadne gave. “You’re worse than me,” he laughed softly.

“Shut up, Arthur.”

Arthur pushed off the door and moved to sit next to Ariadne. He pulled her in for a hug, ignoring her protests. “He’ll ask again and you won’t run away.” Arthur stroked her hair, his fingers brushing out knots. “Or you could ask him.”

“What? No.” Ariadne sat up, shaking her head so hard Arthur thought it might fall off.

“‘Course you can. Next time you see him, just go up and ask him for a drink.”

Ariadne continued to shake her head but Arthur could see the wheels turning. “Ok…” she agreed slowly. “But only if you man up and ask that guy out again.”

Arthur barked out a short laugh.

“I’m serious. You can’t tell me to do something like that and then not take your own advice.” Her gaze burned into the side of Arthur’s head. He couldn’t argue with her logic no matter how much he wanted to.

“Fine,” he groaned and pulled his phone out of his pocket.

Arthur hesitated, his thumbs hovering just above the screen. He wasn’t good at flirting, especially via text. Arthur bit his lower lip, throwing caution to the wind as he typed out a quick message.

> _Any chance of a private viewing?_

“There,” he said as he watched the message send. “Now you’ve got no excuse.” Arthur tossed his phone onto the couch next to him and turned to face Ariadne properly. She was watching him with her mouth open.

“Did you really - - ?” She stopped herself, shaking her head with a soft chuckle.

Arthur smirked. It was a good feeling knowing he could still surprise his best friend. “You wanna stay here tonight?”

“Nah, I should get home.” Ariadne stood and moved to the door. She paused with her hand on the door knob, turning back to Arthur with the door partly open. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

Arthur nodded and settled into the couch as Ariadne left. He was contemplating staying there all night when he heard his suitemate moving around in his room. Not wanting to talk to him, Arthur grabbed his phone and moved to his room.

Arthur was halfway into a pair of sweatpants when his phone went off twice in quick succession. His heart pounded as he pulled the sweats up, leaving them sitting haphazardly on his hips as he checked his phone.

> _Whenever you want, darling._

Arthur’s mouth dried as he saw the picture Eames had sent as well. Eames was in front of a mirror, shirtless with a hand holding his pants down low enough to reveal a tantalizingly small amount of dark curls. 

> _Sweet dreams, Arthur._

Arthur fell backward onto his bed, groaning as he fought the urge to take care of himself.

He fell asleep, phone in hand with the image of Eames still open.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter took a little while to get up.  
> I had a really hard time with it.  
> If try to post updates over on [my tumblr](http://brookebond.tumblr.com/).
> 
> Also, I'm not sure about the rating.  
> I don't think it's explicit... But if you feel it should be rated that, let me know!

The sun was sinking lower, casting an awful glare across the screen of his laptop. Arthur sighed and shifted until he could read his paper again. The draft was coming along reasonably well considering he had only been working on it for the majority of the afternoon. Obviously, it had been longer than he had thought if the sun was starting to set.

Arthur glanced over his shoulder out the window of the coffee shop. He wondered how he hadn’t noticed the sun until then. A notification on his phone stopped him before he could get too lost in his thoughts.

It took a moment to locate his phone amongst the books that littered the small table Arthur had commandeered. A smile spread across his lips as he read the message from Eames. 

> _Need coffee. Send help!!!!_

They hadn’t seen each other since the art exhibition but Eames had found a reason to text Arthur every day. Most of the texts had been jokes and weird tidbits from Eames’ day, but they had quickly become a highlight for Arthur. He had started to look forward to when his phone chimed to tell him he had a new message.

He typed out a quick response and sent it as he took a gulp of his mostly cold coffee.

> _I don’t think coffee would help. Maybe decaf._

Arthur placed his phone on top of the tower of books and bent over his laptop, determined to finish his draft before the sun went down. He let the noise of the coffee shop drown out and spent the next twenty minutes muttering to himself in French as he typed.

It wasn’t until someone cleared their throat that Arthur noticed he had company. “Merde,” he blurted out. “Désolé,” he added quickly when he realized it was Eames sitting across from him. “T'es assis là depuis combien de temps ? Pourquoi tu me regardes comme ça ?”

“Darling,” Eames chuckled. “While that sounded absolutely lovely, I didn’t understand a single word.”

Arthur frowned as he took his glasses off, setting them next to his laptop. Hadn’t he spoken clearly? Arthur replayed what he had just said in his mind. It took him a good minute before he realized he had been speaking French. “Shit, sorry. I’ve just been working on this paper and sometimes I forget what language I’m speaking. And it’s all just mixed up sometimes. I didn’t mean to do that to you. Did I say I was sorry?”

“It’s fine, Arthur. You could read the dictionary in another language and I’d still be riveted.”

Arthur tugged at his collar, looking away from Eames in a vain attempt to stop the flush creeping up his cheeks.

“Working hard, I see.” Eames gestured at the mess of books and papers littering the table.

“Uh, yeah…” Arthur coughed and started to tidy up the table as he spoke. “I’ve got a Bilingualism in Social Context paper due in a few weeks. Wanted to get a rough draft finished.”

“Think you can fit some time in for me in your busy schedule?”

Arthur nodded. “‘Course.” He’d been meaning to come up for air and have a proper date with Eames. The coffee shop meetings and flirty texts were great but not enough.

“What are your plans for tonight?” _  
_ Arthur hesitated. He was planning to continue working on his paper, hopefully without too much interruption from his suitemate or Ariadne.

“I’ve got something much more interesting than a paper in mind,” Eames said, clearly understanding Arthur’s hesitation. “Here.” Eames pulled out a crumpled flyer from his pocket and slid it across the table.

Arthur skimmed the flyer. It was for a play. Not something Arthur was really interested in or had bothered to find the time for in the past. He looked up at Eames, conflicted. “I don’t really - -”

“I’m not asking you to watch it with me. I’m in it.”

“Oh.”

“You forgot I was a theatre major, huh?”

Arthur cast his mind back over their text conversations. He couldn’t remember it Eames had actually mentioned what his major was. “I guess so,” he mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Don’t worry about it. You can make it up to me by coming tonight.” Eames winked, smirking as Arthur flushed all over again. “I’ve gotta go, though. I’ll see you there, yeah?” Eames asked as he stood, slinging his bag over a shoulder.

Arthur nodded, watching Eames leave before picking up his phone to call Ariadne to convince her to go with him to the play.

* * *

Arthur wriggled in his seat, trying desperately to find a comfortable position. If he had been wondering why he’d never been to the theatre before, he finally had his answers. The seats were uncomfortable, somehow it was colder inside than it was out, and Arthur had to listen to a ridiculous playlist that sounded like it consisted mostly of Enya.

Arthur was wondering if he could still slip out before the show started when he noticed Ariadne watching him. “What?”

“You’ve never wanted to see a play before.”

Thankfully the house lights faded out before he could respond. He said a little ‘thank you’ under his breath, grateful to whoever was watching over him.

The play wasn’t too bad, though Arthur couldn’t remember the name of it. It was fairly easy to follow along, right up until Eames sauntered onto the stage. His eyes were drawn to Eames instantly. Mostly Arthur just watched the way Eames’ muscles pulled at his clothes.

“Now I get it,” Ariadne whispered into his ear fifteen minutes into Arthur shamelessly watching Eames. He blushed furiously and tried to keep his gaze off Eames.

It worked for all of ten minutes.

 

An hour later, it was all over. The lights came back on and people started filing out. When Enya started playing, Arthur and Ariadne left as well.

“Think you’ll go to all his plays now?” Ariadne teased as they made their way outside.

“Shut up, Ari.” Arthur flipped the collar of his coat up against the cold. “You wanna come back to mine?” Arthur shoved his hands into his pockets. “Ari?” He nudged her with his shoulder, trying to get her attention.

“Oh…”

“You ok?”

“It’s nothing.” Arthur raised his brows. “Oh fine… It’s that guy from the other night.”

“Really?” Arthur perked up as his gaze roamed over the crowd that had congregated outside the stage door. “Which one is he then?”

“Stop that,” she hissed, grabbing his arm and dragging him away from the crowd.

“You should go over,” he insisted.

“No, I can’t.”

Arthur raised a brow, hunching into his coat a little more to hide from the chilly air. “I could go over. Oh! That would be great.” Arthur grinned, his dimples out in full force and started to head back to the crowd. He wasn’t exactly sure which one was the guy Ariadne was interested in, but asking around couldn’t hurt anything.

“No, Arthur, don’t,” Ariadne called out.

She didn’t need to bother, though, Arthur only got as far as the first cluster of people before his path was blocked by Eames. Ariadne collided with Arthur, still ranting about how she was going to kill him if he actually went through with asking someone out for her.

Arthur smiled at Eames, thinking how unfair it was how good he looked in a ratty hoodie. “Ignore her.” He waved a hand at Ariadne as she stepped out from behind him.

“I was worried you wouldn’t come.”

“Well, you did ask…”

“That works, huh?” Eames raised a brow. “What if I asked you to come get a drink? There’s a few of us that are going to this bar.”

It sounded good. He’d been wanting to spend some time with Eames but it didn’t mean he should ditch Ariadne just so he could try and get laid. “Actually - -”

“‘Course he’ll go,” Ariadne cut him off, ignoring the glare he shot at her. “Arthur’s got no other plans.”

“I had planned on continuing my paper.”

“Yeah, but that’s boring, Arthur.”

“Says the girl that thinks a great Friday night is watching Sixteen Candles.”

“That’s a classic! Don’t mock Molly Ringwald.”

“As amusing as this is, I wouldn’t want to get in the way of your evening plans darling,” Eames interrupted with a grin.

Arthur flushed, covering his embarrassment with a cough. “I could change my plans. On one condition.”

“Oh? What would that be?”

“Ariadne has to ask out this guy she’s hiding from.” Arthur turned to face Ariadne. The move put him next to Eames, who was laughing rather loudly. Arthur had to admit it was definitely a bonus for turning on his friend. Another bonus was the wide-eyed stare Ariadne was giving the two of them.

“You are such a dick, Hopkins,” she muttered before stalking away from them.

Arthur watched as she made her way through the crowd. He felt a little bad for pushing her, but he figured it was time for a taste of her own medicine. Plus, if it hadn’t been for her, Arthur wouldn’t be standing next to Eames.

“Hopkins?” Eames asked, interrupting Arthur’s tiny thoughts of victory.

“Uh… My last name.” Arthur smiled shyly, one cheek dimpling as he glanced at Eames.

“Arthur Hopkins,” Eames murmured.

Arthur fought to suppress the shiver that ran down his spine at the way Eames said his name. The way his accent curled around Arthur’s bland name, making it sound much more special than it ever had before.

Before Arthur could fumble over some sort of awkward response, Ariadne was back with a friend in tow.

“You’re gonna pay for this,” she whispered just loud enough for Arthur to hear.

He let out a short laugh and shook his head. “Lead the way, Mr. Eames.”

Eames’ brow creased, obviously biting back a question. The look was gone as quickly as it had appeared. He flashed a toothy grin and led the way, picking up a few other actors as he did.

* * *

The bar was loud. So loud that Arthur wondered how anyone at the table was managing to have a conversation. Every now and then he caught a few words but he couldn’t make out full sentences. It made him wonder if going to the bar had actually been a good idea. Mostly he’d wanted to spend time with Eames. But it was too hard to talk over the music and chatter so Arthur hadn’t tried.

They’d been at the bar for an hour. Most of the people Eames had encouraged to come along were already several drinks into having a great night. Arthur, on the other hand, was halfway through his second and was seriously considering calling it a night. It would be easy to slip away. To say he needed to use the bathroom and just not come back. Ariadne wouldn’t mind, he could send her a text later on. Eames was the unknown. Would he be offended if Arthur left without saying goodbye? Would he still text?

Arthur sighed and took a sip of his beer. The moment the bottle was back on the table, Arthur made a decision. He tapped the table twice but before he could push away, a hand settled on his back.

“Do you want another?” Eames whispered, his breath hot against Arthur’s ear.

Arthur shook his head.

“You’re leaving?” Through the noise, Arthur could hear the note of disappointment in Eames’ voice. Arthur caught Eames’ gaze and nodded with a small, sad smile.

Eames’ hand dropped from Arthur’s back and he turned back to the others.

The change of attitude threw Arthur. He had thought Eames wanted him there but obviously, it was a brush off. An easy out of sorts. So Arthur caught Ariadne’s eye and gave a small wave. He could see the worry as her eyes creased but he shook his head and left, grabbing his coat on his way out.

Arthur took a deep breath the moment he stepped outside. The fresh air was calming. He hadn’t realized quite how jittery he had been getting inside the bar.

Turning his collar up against the cold, Arthur started off toward his dorm. He was just turning the corner when he heard his name being called.

“Jeez you walk fast,” Eames huffed out as he caught up with Arthur.

“I thought you were staying.” Arthur’s brows drew together. He had been sure of that and strangely, he had been ok with that. It had made it easier to leave since he had thought the decision was out of his hands. But Eames was there, standing in front of him with a cheeky grin.

“And miss out on ending the evening with you? Not a chance.” Arthur frowned again, his confusion deepening. “Is that ok?” Eames asked hesitantly.

Arthur looked away from Eames, shoving his hands in his pockets to keep them warm.

“I can go back,” Eames offered.

“No,” Arthur cut him off. “No, it’s ok. You can walk with me.”

Eames nodded, silently falling into step with Arthur.

They walked in silence for a few minutes before Eames blurted out, “Were you not having a good time?”

“It wasn’t that.”

Eames raised a brow at Arthur.

“It was kinda hard to have a conversation in there.”

Silence settled around them for a moment. Arthur felt a little exposed out in the cold, but walking was helping him ignore the strange feeling that was settling in his stomach.

“And you wanted to talk?” Eames prompted.

“Not about anything specific,” Arthur blurted out. “Just, you know…” Arthur waved a hand, unsure about what he was trying to say.

“I know.”

The bar turned out to not be that far from Arthur’s residence building. Neither of them had felt the need to fill the last few minutes so they remained silent until Arthur unlocked the door to his suite, his hand hovering over the handle. “You want to come in?”

Eames smiled and entered when Arthur held the door open for him. It was daunting having Eames filling up a space Arthur barely used. But he still watched as Eames wandered around the small common room, taking in the sparse decorations. Arthur hadn’t let much of his personal belongings filter out to this area. He didn’t really trust his suitemate to not fuck anything up.

“This one yours?” Eames asked when he stopped in front of the door farthest from the front door.

Arthur nodded, swallowing hard as Eames pushed the door open and went in. He knew his room was tidy, no dirty laundry on the floor, everything put back in its place, but Arthur still hurried to his room. He closed the door, leaning against it as he watched Eames move around the room.

“Neat,” Eames remarked, fingers dragging across the desk that Arthur had only tidied up that morning. “Have you read all of these?” Eames asked as he crossed to the bookshelf. Arthur just watched as Eames’ fingers trailed along the spines of his books. His eyes followed Eames’ fingers, wondering how they would feel against his own skin.

When Arthur didn’t answer the question, Eames’ gaze flicked to him. “Should I go?”

Arthur shook his head, unable to speak. Having Eames in his bedroom was turning him into some sort of idiot. All Arthur could think about was pinning Eames to the bed, running his hands along Eames’ muscles, tasting every inch of skin he could reach.

His brain shut off right as Eames caged Arthur in against the door. Arthur swallowed hard, unable to focus on Eames properly he was so close. “What do you want, Arthur?”

Arthur surged forward, closing the distance to press his lips against Eames’. It wasn’t elegant or soft, Arthur just wanted to taste. Eames groaned and pressed Arthur into the door, their bodies flush against each other. Feeling Eames hardening against his thigh spurred Arthur on. He let his hands roam over Eames’ back, pulling him in as close as he could.

Arthur moaned as Eames shifted his hips, the friction glorious for one brief moment before Eames pulled back. “I should go.”

“No.” Arthur grabbed Eames’ shirt and kissed him messily, pushing Eames toward the bed. It was only a few steps away and Eames toppled backward onto the bed. Arthur followed quickly, straddling Eames thighs tightly as he captured Eames’ lips again.

Eames’ skimmed his fingers down Arthur’s sides until his hands rested on Arthur’s hips, digging in slightly as Arthur pressed himself harder against Eames.

“Arthur,” Eames groaned.

“What?” Arthur licked his lips as he gulped down air.

“I should go.”

Arthur’s eyes widened. “You’re kidding…”

“No, I just don’t think - -”  
“Stop.” Arthur held up his hands and climbed off Eames. He moved to the desk, resting his hands on the top as he tried to calm his body. He heard Eames get off the bed and move to him.

“It’s not what you think,” Eames insisted as he rested a hand on Arthur’s shoulder.

Arthur shrugged him off and whispered. “Just go.”

As soon as his door closed, Arthur threw himself onto his bed. He had thought he had read everything right. Eames was just as interested as he was, he'd felt it. But Arthur couldn't figure out why he was alone instead of getting fucked into his mattress. 

His cock twitched at the thought, reminding him that he needed to take care of himself.

Arthur fumbled with the button and zipper on his jeans, drawing his cock out and stroking himself. His eyes slid shut, mouth parted as he ran his thumb over the tip of his cock, spreading the moisture beading there. Arthur tried not to think of Eames. Tried not to imagine Eames between his legs running the flat of his tongue against the length of him. Arthur came suddenly, biting back Eames’ name as he groaned.

Arthur lay on his bed, catching his breath as he tried not to think too much about what he had done. Not wanting to linger, Arthur pushed himself off his bed and stripped out of his clothes. He cleaned himself half-heartedly and pulled on a pair of sweats before climbing into bed. He would deal with Eames tomorrow when his head wasn’t clouded with arousal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to [freudhood](http://freudhood.tumblr.com/) for help with the French in this chapter!
> 
> Translations:  
> Merde. - - Shit.  
> Désolé. - - Sorry.  
> T'es assis là depuis combien de temps ? Pourquoi tu me regardes comme ça ? - - How long have you been sitting there? Why are you looking at me like that?


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry about not posting this sooner!  
> RL and these assholes...
> 
> Obviously, I have no real idea how the whole Thanksgiving and Winter Break thing works in the US.  
> Christmas for me is in the Summer... And we don't celebrate Thanksgiving.  
> So it's totally different.  
> If there are any weird, glaring errors, please don't hesitate to let me know!

A loud rhythmic thumping noise woke Arthur. He automatically sought to escape it, burrowing his head under the pillow but it didn’t help. The noise still dug its way into his skull.

Arthur rolled onto his back, throwing the pillow into the wall he shared with his suitemate with a groan. It was too early for this shitty drum and bass and there was no way he was going to be able to get back to sleep.

Arthur forced himself out of bed and grabbed his shower stuff. No point lingering in bed if he couldn’t enjoy it.

The showers were thankfully empty. Though, Arthur assumed that was probably because it was eight in the morning on a Sunday and any sane person would still be in bed. It was these sort of mornings that made Arthur wonder just what he’d have to do to get a single.

Arthur turned the shower on, letting it heat up as he stripped. Usually, he was methodical and efficient when it came to showers. But Arthur wasn’t feeling methodical. His mind wandered the moment he stepped under the spray, letting his body go on autopilot. It wasn’t until his fingers wrapped around his cock that he realized what he was thinking about. Eames.

He sucked in a harsh breath as he turned the shower as cold as it could go, rinsing off quickly as his thoughts turned only to how fucking cold he was.

Arthur dried himself haphazardly, there were wet patches his jeans and shirt stuck to but he didn’t care. If he was uncomfortable, his thoughts wouldn’t sneak up on him.

Back in the safety of his dorm, Arthur realized that the drum and bass had stopped. He resisted the urge to knock on his suitemates door, despite how tempting it was to pay the dick back. Instead, he moved to his bedroom, tossing his toiletries carelessly onto the bed as he checked his phone. There wasn’t anything from Eames but Ariadne had texted him six times and called twice.

> _Can’t believe you ditched me!!! Where are you?!?!!???_
> 
> _AAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRTRHHHUUUURURRRRR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!_
> 
> _Stop ignoring me!!!!!_
> 
> _Stop ignoring me. I know where you live!_
> 
> _Arthur, seriously, please reply._
> 
> _Please don’t be dead…_

“Merde…” Arthur dragged a hand through his still wet hair and dialed Ariadne’s number. He couldn’t believe he had completely forgotten to let her know that he had gone home.

“Mmmm…,” Ariadne hummed into the phone after the sixth ring.

“Ah shit, I woke you.”

“S’ok. What’s up?”

“Just returning your messages.” Arthur picked up his pillow, tossing it onto his bed before following it. “Didn’t want you still thinking I might be dead.” _  
_ “Ah, yes. That’s good.” A decidedly male groan came from the other end of the phone.

Arthur sat up quickly. The phone call suddenly taking an interesting turn. “Ari… Are you with a boy right now?”

“That is none of your business.” He could hear the blush through the phone.

“You are. Is it the guy from last night?”

“Who else would it be?” Ariadne’s voice pitched higher in indignation.

Arthur laughed and climbed off his bed to move to his desk. “I’ll let you go. You can catch me up on all the details later,” he said, opening his laptop and settling into his chair.

“Dinner?”

“Maybe. I’ve got a lot of work to do today.”

“I’ll see you at six.” Ariadne hung up, leaving Arthur to shake his head at his phone before opening his paper on his laptop. There wasn’t much point arguing with Ariadne about food. They’d been friends since freshman year, long enough for her to know just how easily Arthur forgot about food when he was too deep into studying. She was probably the only reason Arthur hadn’t wasted away yet.

 

Half an hour later, Arthur had done nothing but check his emails and scroll through a few news articles. His paper was still open in the background, but his mind was elsewhere. If he was honest with himself, he’d admit that his mind was on Eames.

There still wasn’t anything from Eames so Arthur picked up his phone and opened a new message. He could be the one to strike up a conversation. It wasn’t a big deal. 

> _Hey, did you get home alright last night?_

Arthur watched the message send, briefly wondering if he should have said something else. He set the phone to silent and set it on his desk face down. Without the temptation staring at him, he had a chance to get some work done.

 

It worked for two hours. Arthur had managed to knock out a huge chunk of his paper and was extremely satisfied. He doubted he had to do much editing for what he had written so far. Leaning back in his chair, Arthur stretched his arms over his head and checked the time. It was after ten, a much more reasonable hour to be awake.

Sometime during the two-hour writing fest, the drum and bass had started up again. Arthur wasn’t sure how he hadn’t noticed earlier, but now that he had noticed, he couldn’t ignore it. He wasn’t going to be getting any work done in his dorm.

Sighing heavily, Arthur stuffed his laptop and books into his satchel. He slipped into his chuck taylors and a peacoat before grabbing his phone and satchel.

As he left his dorm, Arthur checked his phone, fumbling a little when he saw a message from Eames.   

> _To live is the rarest thing in the world. Most people exist, that is all._

Arthur frowned. What did an Oscar Wilde quote have anything to do with Eames getting home? He shook his head and stuffed the phone in his pocket. There was no possible response to that text. Eames had killed a conversation before it could have started.

Pulling his coat tighter around him, Arthur walked to his favourite coffee shop. He was determined to finish his paper before heading back home for Thanksgiving, with or without Eames’ cryptic texts.

* * *

No matter how much Arthur loved his parents, he looked forward to going back to college. Being able to eat a home cooked meal was amazing. Not freezing his ass off on the East Coast was even better. But being constantly asked if there were any boys in his life was enough to make him cut his trip short.

That was why Arthur was currently lounging on his bed a full three days before he had planned on being back. It shouldn’t have surprised him. His mother had a knack for finding his weaknesses and poking at them relentlessly. The interrogation started after the first text Eames had sent. It continued right up until Arthur went through security at the airport. He was pretty sure it had continued through his flight as well, he just hadn’t checked his phone yet.

Sighing softly, Arthur dug his phone from the back pocket of his jeans and unlocked it. There were three messages from his mother, but Arthur ignored them all in favour of the one from Eames.

> _Are you free for dinner, darling?_

Arthur smiled. Over the break, Eames had been texting almost every day. It was a nice change from the silence that had settled over them before Thanksgiving. Arthur had actually started to look forward to the messages. It was part of the reason behind his mother’s interrogations. She’d noticed the little smiles he got whenever his phone chimed.

> _You’re not going to cook, are you?_

Rolling off the bed, Arthur set about to unpack. He hadn’t taken much with him so it didn’t take long. The clothes all got tossed into his hamper, the few books were put back on their proper shelf, and his laptop was carefully placed on his desk. A text came through just as Arthur pulled his chair out with the intention of studying. Instead, he grabbed his phone from the bed and settled into his chair.

> _I am a brilliant cook. You’d be so lucky._

Arthur chuckled, his eyes crinkling as he responded.  

> _I don’t believe in luck, Mr. Eames._

Eames’ response came through before Arthur had the chance to put his phone down.

> _You didn’t answer my question._

Arthur sucked his lower lip into his mouth, tapping the phone on his chin. Was he free for dinner? 

> _Yes._

Arthur pressed send, not giving himself the opportunity to chicken out. It had been weeks since they’d seen each other. Surely it would be a good thing now. They’d spent some time getting to know one another, even if it was via text. Now seemed like as good a time as any to get to the face to face part of their relationship.

Three knocks broke Arthur’s thoughts. He moved to the door and opened it to find Eames on the other side, grinning like an idiot with his hands stuffed in his pockets. “Alright?”

Arthur held up a finger and darted back to his room, swiftly putting on his shoes, grabbing his phone and keys before slipping on his coat. He exited his room, happy to see Eames waiting patiently in the hall.

“Come on then.”

 

The dining hall was busy. Thankfully, it didn’t take long to get through the line of people waiting to swipe their cards. It did, however, take awhile to find a table once they had their food.

Usually, Arthur tried to avoid staying in the dining hall longer than was necessary. He didn’t like the way conversations echoed around the hall, didn’t like the sheer number of people. But it was comfortable with Eames. Somehow, Arthur didn’t notice all of the other conversations or the number of people. His focus was solely on Eames.

The conversation was easy with Eames leading it, asking questions about Arthur’s Thanksgiving and home. Arthur wasn’t that surprised when the conversation turned towards the upcoming Winter Break. He found it easy to talk about the traditions his mother still enforced over Christmas. That he still baked cookies with her, that they waited until he was home to get a tree. Surprisingly, it wasn’t embarrassing to share these things with Eames, not when he was smiling at Arthur. It made Arthur want to share more, to see if he could keep that smile forever.

“Thinking about those cookies helps me get through finals,” Arthur said longingly. “I think I’ve got a few minutes I can block out for thinking about those cookies.”

Eames barked out a laugh. “Scheduling thinking about cookies?”

“Of course. The next few weeks are scheduled, to maximize studying.”

“You’ve remembered to fit in some sleep, yeah?”

Arthur snorted and pushed his tray away from his slightly. “A solid five hours each night.”

“I’m not sure that’s enough, Arthur,” Eames grumbled.

“I spent years figuring it out. Any more than that and I lose precious studying time, any less and I don’t function so well. It’s a science.”

“Right.” Eames nodded, pushing the remaining food around on his plate. “Any free time in your schedule?”

“Not if I want to keep my GPA.” The moment there words were out of his mouth, Arthur desperately wanted to take them back. If only to never see that brief flicker of hurt pass over Eames’ face. “Eames,” Arthur started, unsure what he could possibly say to make it any better.

“Not to worry, darling,” Eames replied with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “What shall we do with the rest of our evening?”

* * *

Arthur fiddled with the label on the bottle he was holding, peeling it off bit by bit and dropping the pieces on the ground. There was a party going on around him, but Arthur didn’t feel compelled to join in. Ariadne had convinced him to go with her because he was leaving in the morning and she wanted to spend their last night of the year together. But she had ditched him. Well, Arthur had taken his leave of her after a few minutes of awkward conversation with her and the guy she had only just started dating. Yusuf.

Ariadne had finally taken the opportunity to introduce them and Arthur had quickly felt like the third wheel. So he had excused himself with the excuse of needing to grab a drink. Neither of them seemed to notice him leaving. They were so caught up in each other Arthur wasn’t sure they’d notice an elephant standing right in front of them.

If he was totally honest with himself, Arthur would have to admit that the reason he really wanted to get away was because he didn’t want to think about relationships. He was happy that Ariadne seemed so content. It just was a harsh reminder that things with Eames had stopped thanks to finals and Arthur’s desperate need to schedule every single minute of his day.

They hadn’t seen each other since Arthur had come back from Thanksgiving, but Eames had kept up a stream of texts every day since. After the first day of getting a text almost every hour, Arthur had to switch his phone to silent. He’d missed three calls from his mother just because of that and had done a lot of groveling when he’d finally called her back.

He was so lost in his thoughts, Arthur barely noticed someone bumping into him. He managed to not spill his beer through sheer luck but the guy was off, lost in the crowd before Arthur could yell at him.

As Arthur settled back against the wall still pissed off, he let his gaze wander over the crowd before him. There were a few people Arthur recognized, sort of. He was positive some of them were in his classes. Not that he’d go over and strike up a conversation with any of them. They all probably thought he had a stick up his ass anyway. His mood wouldn’t help change that either.

Arthur took a long swig of his beer, contemplating whether or not it would be socially acceptable to leave after just one drink. No one would notice or mind. Except for Ariadne. But he’d lost track of her the moment he’d got a drink.

In the middle of his rambling thoughts of leaving, Arthur spotted Eames across the room. The mass of people parted just enough that Arthur could see him, white button up stretched across his chest with the top few buttons undone. Arthur’s eyes traveled down Eames’ body, appreciating the way his dark wash jeans hugged his thighs.

Taking another swig of his beer, Arthur lifted his gaze to Eames’ face only to be met by Eames grinning at him. Clearly, Arthur’s appreciation of Eames hadn’t gone unnoticed. Normally, Arthur would have blushed at being caught but the look Eames was giving him made him bold.

Arthur kicked off the wall, forgetting about the pieces of the label at his feet and pushed his way through the crowd that was starting to thicken again.

The moment Arthur is almost within speaking distance, Eames pulled out his phone, grimacing as he answered a call. Eames’ tension was almost palpable, even from this distance. It made Arthur hesitate. The situation had suddenly become something very different from what he had expected. But Arthur took a deep breath, quieting the nerves that were bubbling up and started moving towards Eames again. As he took the first step, Eames pushed through the crowd, ignoring Arthur completely while he was still on the phone, talking hurriedly.

Arthur stared after Eames, frozen to the spot. That had taken an extremely unexpected turn and now Arthur was left standing in the middle of a crowd at a party he hadn’t even wanted to go to. Sighing as he ran a hand through his unstyled hair, Arthur took a quick survey of the room, trying to determine where Ariadne was.

Not being able to spot her, Arthur made a quick decision. He downed the remainder of his beer and made for the front door, depositing the bottle on the first surface he found. As soon as he was outside, Arthur fished out his phone and sent a text to Ariadne, wishing her happy holidays and that he’d see her for the spring semester.

Even though he felt somewhat like an idiot, Arthur wasn’t going to let this turn of events completely ruin everything. He was going to go home and thoroughly enjoy not having to wake up before ten every morning, though, he probably still would, he was hard-wired that way.

* * *

“You need to eat more.”

Arthur rolled his eyes. Despite the fact that he had gorged himself on turkey a few weeks ago, his slight frame was still a free for all for his mother. She always saw it as slight to her, like Arthur couldn’t look after himself properly because she hadn’t taught him properly. It wasn’t that at all. At least Arthur didn’t think so. Since she’d raised him, he would have thought she’d know by now that Arthur just wasn’t stocky. He was wiry and lean. No matter what he tried, he still looked slim. Though, he supposed if he really was super keen, he could start bench pressing instead of running occasionally and doing press ups.

“I eat enough. Besides, that’s why I came home, isn’t it?”

She whacked him on the arm and shooed him away.

Arthur left the kitchen, dragging his bags upstairs with a chuckle.

Arthur’s bedroom hadn’t changed at all even though he’d been at college for the last few years. He supposed it had something to do with being an only child and his mother’s inability to let him go. But whenever he was home, Arthur appreciated that his room was the same. That he could come home to something familiar.

He threw his bags at the foot of his bed before throwing himself on top of the bedspread and pulling out his phone. He had turned it back on once he was in the car, but it was on silent so he hadn’t noticed any of the messages come in. There were two from Ari, one complaining about him bailing from the party early the previous night, and another wishing him happy holidays as well. But the message that captured his attention was one from Eames.

His thumb hovered over opening the message but then he remembered the previous night and how Eames had walked away as Arthur moved to him. He shoved the phone under his pillow and stood from the bed, setting about changing into running gear.

 

Arthur stretched in his bedroom, breathing heavily. He hadn’t run since Thanksgiving and was suffering for it. His legs ached and his chest hurt. Despite running farther than he had in months, Arthur hadn’t been able to drive Eames from his mind. So Arthur rummaged for his phone under the pillow and opened the message, just to quench his curiosity.

> _Do you ever think about your own mortality?_

Arthur blinked at the message. What kind of morbid shit was that? Arthur locked his phone and tossed it on his bed. He stripped out of his running gear, tossing them into the hamper in the corner of his room before heading to the bathroom connected to his bedroom.

The shower was as hot as Arthur could stand. It was a desperate attempt to drive Eames from his thoughts. It wasn’t working. He let the water pound against his shoulders, his head resting against the tiles. The thoughts weren’t erotic. Far from it. Arthur couldn’t get the text out of his mind, wondering what the hell Eames was playing at. His thoughts raced in circles but no matter what scenario Arthur could come up with, he always came back to the idea that something was wrong.

Arthur washed quickly and turned off the water. He grabbed his towel and dried himself roughly, padding back to his bedroom as he tied the towel around his waist.

There was another message from Eames waiting for Arthur when he checked his phone. 

> _Should tequila taste dusty?_

Arthur snorted. He wasn’t the best person to ask about alcohol, but that one seemed pretty obvious.

> _Nothing should ever taste dusty._

Arthur set his phone on his desk and dropped his towel to the floor before slipping on a pair of sweats and his old high school track shirt. By the time he was dressed, there was another message.

> _Ah well, I’m sure it’ll do the job._

Arthur frowned at the message. He would never claim to be an expert on Eames but, in the short time that they had known each other, Arthur had come to recognize a few of his tells. Well, mostly Arthur could tell something was wrong because Eames hadn’t used a single pet name.

So Arthur did the only thing he could think of, something he was normally so good at but seemed to flounder at with Eames. Being blunt.

> _Is something wrong?_

Arthur kept the phone in his hand, desperately waiting for a response. He didn’t have to wait long.

> _Everything’s peachy._

It was hard to tell through text, Arthur knew that, but it seemed fairly obvious that Eames wasn’t actually interested in talking.

 

It was easy fitting back in with his mom and dad. The dynamic hadn’t changed since he’d left. They still ate dinner at seven on the dot. They still had a scoop of ice cream after dinner. They still watched tv after tidying up. Arthur loved that his parents had a routine, it was why he had figured out he loved organization.

 

After helping his mom clean up, Arthur went up to his room, forgoing the usual routine of watching some tv before bed. There weren’t any new mystery messages from Eames so Arthur figured things were ok and that earlier was an anomaly. Clearly, there wasn’t anything to worry about.

Arthur settled on his bed with a copy of Les Mis and settled in for the night. It only took half an hour for his imagination to catch up with him, though. He couldn’t stop thinking about Eames and wondering if maybe the texts were something after all. That maybe there really was something wrong and Eames wanted someone to talk to.

So Arthur sent a message.

> _Is it sad I kinda miss my dorm?_

Arthur figured trying to keep it light might be an incentive for Eames to open up if he managed to actually respond. Ten minutes later, Arthur was reading the same sentence over and over.

Finally, his phone buzzed.

Arthur fumbled with the phone, dropping it once before he managed to open the text.

> _No sadder than missing the food._

Arthur smiled a little. It was a start at least.

> _Please don’t tell me you’re missing the food._

Arthur sat up, settling back against the pillows as he waited for a response, his book totally forgotten on the bed next to him.

> _I would never admit to such a thing._

Arthur’s fingers flew over the screen in his haste to keep the conversation flowing. 

> _What would you admit to?_

It seemed like Eames was just as eager to speak to Arthur.

> _Missing your voice._

Arthur’s breath caught at that. They hadn’t had any sort of flirting for a while. It shocked Arthur. But he replied before he could overthink.

> _You’re such a sap, Eames._

Arthur shuffled down the pillows a little until his head was resting against them. 

> _You don’t know the half of it._
> 
> _Goodnight, darling._

Arthur was sure it wasn’t meant to be a brush off, but he couldn’t stop feeling like it was. He had thought he was being funny, teasing Eames like that. The fact that Eames wasn’t teasing back threw him. 

> _Sweet dreams, Mr. Eames._

Arthur kept his phone on him, resting on his chest as he fell asleep surprisingly fast.

* * *

It was a fact. No matter how old Arthur got, he would always get a small thrill waking up on Christmas Day. The giddy excitement was what got Arthur out of bed, the smell of pancakes took him to the kitchen.

He padded barefoot into the kitchen, stuffing his phone into his pocket before his mom could see it. There was a strict ‘no phone’ policy on Christmas Day. His parents believed in actually spending the day together. Even if it was just all of them in the same room reading books.

“Coffee’s in the pot.”

“Merry Christmas, Mom,” Arthur said with a kiss to her cheek. “You want one?” He asked as he grabbed a mug from the cupboard and poured himself one. The answer is always no, but Arthur always asks anyway.

“So, should I ask about any boys in your life now or later?”

“Mom,” Arthur groaned and slumped into a chair at the kitchen table.

“Now, now, dear. It’s tradition,” she said with a wicked grin, flipping the pancake in the pan.

Arthur hid his own grin in his mug, thankful that his dad chose that moment to walk in.

“It smells delicious in here.”

“Arthur and I were just discussing his love life.”

“No we weren’t,” Arthur interjected.

“Come on, duck.” Arthur bristled a little at the old nickname. “You tell her what she wants to know, then we’ll both be free,” his dad said, ruffling his hair as he passed to get a cup of coffee.

Just as Arthur opened his mouth to tell them both that there wasn’t anyone in his life, his phone rang. Loud and obnoxious.

“Arthur,” his mother warned.

“I know. I’m sorry,” he mumbled, fishing his phone out of his pocket. He was going to decline the call but Eames’ name on his screen made him pause. He flashed a chagrined look at his mom and bolted out the back door before she could stop him.

“Hello?” Arthur shoved his free hand in his pocket, keeping his back firmly to the house so he wouldn’t have to look at his mom through the window.

Silence answered him. Arthur pulled the phone away to check that he had actually answered the call.

“Eames?” He prompted.

“Arthur,” Eames breathed.

“You ok?” Arthur asked, his brows drawing together.

Eames was silent for a while. Just as Arthur was about to speak again, Eames answered his question.

“No.”

The single word was barely audible but it spoke volumes to Arthur.

“What’s going on?” A sob came through the line, breaking Arthur’s heart. “Eames.”

“I’ve been calling her phone to get her voicemail so I can hear her voice again,” Eames said, his voice cracking on the last word.

Arthur could have sworn he heard a sniffle. Putting two and two together, Arthur realized that Eames had lost someone important to him. He wondered who it was.

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

“It’s all I’ve been talking about since I got here.”

“Ok,” Arthur cut in. “How about I talk and you listen?”

“Please,” Eames croaked.

Arthur ran a hand through his hair, glancing back inside to find his mother glaring at him. ‘ _Sorry_ ’ he mouthed at her and turned away. He was going to pay for that later. “Do you like blueberry pancakes? It’s a tradition in my house, blueberry pancakes for breakfast every Christmas. My mom makes them.” A small sob at the word ‘mom’ threw Arthur off his tangent. That alone made it obvious what the problem was but Arthur didn’t know what he could do. He had no experience with loss. “Eames, I know you’ve probably heard this a lot, but I’m sorry. I can’t say I know what you’re going through, that would be a lie. But I can say that I’m here to talk to. About anything.”

“Thank you,” Eames whispered.

“No.” Arthur shook his head, forgetting for a second that Eames couldn’t see him. “What are your thoughts on blueberry pancakes?”

Eames huffed out a breath. Arthur would count that as a laugh. “They’re a good breakfast food.”

“It’s my favourite part of Christmas. The food.”

“Sure and the Queen is popping round for tea.”

“Is she more of an English Breakfast or Earl Grey?”

Eames barked out a laugh, a real one this time. Arthur felt strangely smug that he had managed to pull that laugh from Eames.

“I need to ring off.”

“What?”

“I’ve got some things I need to take care of.”

“Ah ok,” Arthur hesitated. Part of him didn’t want to get off the phone, but he also knew he was pushing his luck with his parents. “Text me later?”

“I’ll try.”

“Ok, bye.”

“Arthur,” Eames blurted out.

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

“Eames, you really don’t have to. You can call anytime, ok?” Arthur started wandering back to the house.

“Ok. Cheers, Arthur.”

Arthur hung up, feeling a little satisfied that he had managed to get Eames talking a little. He had started to sound a little more like himself towards the end of the call. It was understandable. His mother had died. Arthur knew he would be a wreck if his mother died as well.

When he was back inside, Arthur hugged his mother, wrapping his arms around her from behind. She let out a small distressed noise as she dropped the butter knife she had been holding.

“Arthur, dear. What’s this?”

“Can’t I hug you?”

“Of course you can, sweetie. What brought this on?” She asked as Arthur stepped back, giving her the room to turn around and face him. “Is this something to do with that phone call?” The look she gave him was reproachful. He knew the rules, no phones on Christmas, but Arthur also knew that this would be the one and only time he would get away with it.

“A friend needed me, reminded me that I should let you know that I love you while I can.”

“I love you too. But I’m not going anywhere, Arthur,” she said, patting him on the shoulder.

“You could,” Arthur choked out, suddenly emotional at the thought of losing his mother.

“Arthur, what’s the matter?” She asked, sternly.

“My friend, his mother died. That’s why he rang.”

“Oh, sweetheart.” She gathered him up in a hug. Even though he was taller than her, had been since he was fifteen, Arthur felt small, like he could crawl up in her lap and be safe forever. Nothing could hurt him in his mother’s embrace.

“Do you need to ring him back?”

Arthur stepped back, staring at his mother. She flashed a smile at his incredulous look. “No,” he shook his head. “It’s ok. He’ll text if he needs to talk.”

“Is this he a bit special?”

“Mom,” Arthur blushed.

“Honey, I need to know these things. The ladies in my book club are always going on about their children. I need something to tell them.”

“Mom,” Arthur repeated a little harshly.

“I can tell you’re worried about this friend. If there’s something more, you shouldn’t hide it. You don’t have to talk to me about it but you can, you know that, sweetheart.”

Arthur nodded, fiddling with his phone in his pocket. “Thanks, Mom.”

“Let’s eat some pancakes.”

 

In the middle of cleaning the kitchen after lunch, Arthur’s phone rang again. He looked over at his mom, embarrassed that it was happening again.

“Last one, Arthur.”

Arthur nodded, answering his phone as he left the kitchen.

“Where are you?” Eames asked before Arthur could get a word out.

“Uh at home?” His voice went up unintentionally letting it come out as a question.

“Specifics, Arthur,” Eames grumbled.

“Burbank California.”

“Ok. Do you have a car?”

“My parents do. What’s going on, Eames?”

“I’ll text you later.”

Eames hung up, leaving Arthur gaping at the phone. What the fuck had just happened?

 

Arthur didn’t hear from Eames for the rest of the day. He went to bed with his phone in his hand.

Arthur didn’t hear from Eames until nine the next night.

> _Airport, half an hour._

Arthur stared at the text for a few minutes before bursting into action.

“Can I borrow the car?” 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry about the long wait between chapters! And that this one is a little on the shorter side.  
> But we're getting close to the end, so hopefully I can keep the momentum up!
> 
> I've never been to California or Santa Monica, so research has been my friend. But if there are any errors, please let me know! 
> 
> As always, this is unbeta'd. I've tried hard to catch any mistakes but something always slips through!

Normally, it would take Arthur fifteen minutes to get to the airport, but Arthur was reckless and managed the drive in only ten. Luckily he didn’t get stopped.

His luck held out and Arthur found a parking spot as soon as he entered the carpark.

On the short walk to the terminal, Arthur’s mind ran through a million different scenarios. Maybe Eames wasn’t really in there. Maybe it was some sort of stupid prank that he had fallen for. Why else would Eames be in Burbank? It was almost enough to make Arthur go back to the car and drive home. Almost.

One look at the arrivals board told Arthur that flight from London had landed and was through customs. So he moved through the airport to the baggage carousel. There were so many people packed around the conveyor it made it difficult to find anyone but when a large man moved, having clearly rescued his luggage, Arthur spotted Eames. From this distance, Arthur could see the slight hunch of his shoulders and Arthur wanted to go to him but Arthur held back.

It was only a few minutes before Eames had his luggage and was pushing through the crowd. Once he was free, Eames’ eyes landed on Arthur. A small smile broke out. Clearly, Eames hadn’t expected Arthur to actually show up.

Arthur walked to Eames and grabbed his bag, ignoring the protests he received. “Fancy meeting you here.” Arthur was aiming for nonchalant but was pretty sure he missed it by a mile or three. “Where am I taking you?”

Eames’ answering silence was more than enough for Arthur.

“Come on,” he said, not waiting for a response before he briskly led the way to the car.

 

Arthur made it all the way to his own driveway before he gave in and asked why Eames was there.

“I had to get out of here,” Eames answered quietly. “I’m sorry. I can find somewhere else to stay.”

“It’s fine.” Arthur turned the key in the ignition and got out, efficiently moving about and getting Eames’ bag out of the boot before he even realised the lights were still on in the house.

He checked his watch. It was after midnight. His parents were waiting up for him. Arthur sighed, running a hand through his already disheveled hair as he thought of how he might explain Eames.

Arthur paused on the porch, his hand on the door knob. “My parents are still up.”

Eames raised a brow. “I can go somewhere else,” he offered again.

Arthur shook his head and opened the front door, letting Eames go in first. He set Eames’ bag at the bottom of the stairs and peeked into the living room. As he expected, both of his parents are still up and watching some late night news channel, though Arthur is pretty sure they aren’t really watching it.

“Mom, Dad,” he started, moving into the room properly as the glance over at him. “This is Eames,” he says with a tight smile, gesturing though their eyes were already on him.

“I’m sorry for the intrusion,” Eames offered politely.

It shocked Arthur to hear Eames speak so formally but he bit his tongue and let his parents start in on the guest spiel.

They took over, showing Eames where the kitchen was if he got hungry before they led him upstairs to the guest room. It was down the hall from Arthur’s own room, a shared bathroom the only thing separating the two rooms.

They took over, showing Eames where the kitchen was if he got hungry before they led him upstairs to the guest room. It was down the hall from Arthur’s own room, a shared bathroom the only thing separating the two rooms.

With Eames settled into the guest room, Arthur’s parents left, bidding both of them goodnight as they pointedly left the door open.

Arthur caught the look his mother gave him as she left the room and made a mental note to talk to her tomorrow. He was going to have some serious explaining to do. Not that he could possibly explain Eames or why he’d shown up like he did.

“Lovely home you’ve got.”

Arthur sat next to Eames on the bed, leaving plenty of space but he could still feel the heat coming off Eames. “Should I ask why you’re here now or later?”

Eames sighed and laid back on the bed, a hand flopping over his eyes.

“Ok.” Arthur got up quickly. He understood not wanting to talk and Arthur really wasn’t interested in pushing it. He risked a glance at Eames, who was still hiding behind his hand, before he left the room, closing the door quietly.

 

Arthur tried to think of it as any other night. He tried not to think about Eames being on the other side of the wall as he brushed his teeth. He tried not to think about Eames potentially changing into his own pyjamas as Arthur pulled on a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt. He tried not to think about Eames crawling into bed as Arthur settled onto his own, book in hand and glasses perched on his nose.

He made it all of three pages in before there was a knock on his door. “Come in,” he called, expecting his mother to be not so subtly making sure he wasn’t violating the _‘no boys in your bedroom with the door closed’_ rule. Instead, Eames walked in, closing the door behind him.

Eames was wearing a thin white t-shirt with holes around the neck and a pair of check flannel pants. There was no way something so ratty should have looked as good as it did, but Arthur’s mouth dried at the sight before him.

“What are you doing?” Arthur hissed, pulling off his glasses and setting them on top of his book on the bedside table.

“I’m still on UK time,” Eames said, avoiding Arthur’s question as he made himself comfortable on the foot of Arthur’s bed.

Arthur dragged his knees to his chest in a defensive move to try and keep space between them. The bed was a double but that didn’t mean anything. Eames had a way of taking up space that Arthur couldn’t understand. Though it was probably all just in his head.

“You are going to have to tell me why you’re here at some point,” Arthur said it softly, hoping that Eames wouldn’t feel like he was being pushed to reveal things he wasn’t ready to.

“Yeah. It’s just—” Eames paused, one thumb rubbing against the knuckles of his other hand. “When we were on the phone and you were talking about bloody pancakes, it really helped, you know? I felt calmer. Which is strange, I know, but I just thought it might work the same if you were the in person.” Eames shrugged, stilling his hands as he stared at the wall opposite him.

“Is it working?”

Eames nodded, still not looking at Arthur.

“Ok.”

Silence settled around them. Arthur was too scared to break it. There was a strange easiness to the silence and he didn’t want to ruin it by saying something stupid. But he also didn’t want to pick up his book and continue reading. He wasn’t entirely sure he could keep reading with Eames in the room. His presence threw Arthur off balance.

“Arthur,” Eames eventually said, though it was so quiet Arthur had to wonder if he hadn’t imagined it. “Could I sleep here?”

Arthur must have made a strangled noise because Eames was looking at him, a brow raised in concern.

“If you don’t want me to, I understand completely. But, I just don’t think I could handle being on my own tonight.” Eames smiled, one side of his mouth curled up. “I can sleep on the floor if that would make you feel better. I am, after all, a perfect gentleman,” Eames said with a wink.

Arthur shook his head. He was so screwed. “Sure.”

Eames stood from the bed, obviously determined to follow through on his offer.

Arthur shuffled under his comforter, stretching his legs out and got as far as letting Eames sit on the floor before he patted the space next to him. “Come on, there’s room for another.”

It took Eames all of thirty seconds before he carefully slid under the comforter.

Arthur wasn’t sure how he was going to fall asleep so close to Eames but somehow he managed it. His breath came deeper as his eyes drooped and his fingers slowly inched towards the warmth on the other side of the bed.

He fell asleep to the feeling of fingers tentatively brushing against his own.

* * *

Arthur woke the next morning to a solid presence behind him. It took a while to remember that Eames was the person spooning him. It also took much longer to realise that he wasn’t imagining the hardness pressed against him. He was tempted to lay there, relishing the fact that Eames was so close to him but Arthur knew he had to get out of the room before Eames woke up.

Arthur eased out of Eames’ grip and climbed off the bed as carefully as he could. He looked down at Eames, itching to trace his thumb across Eames’ parted lips. He looked so peaceful and Arthur didn’t want to wake him. There wasn’t any way Arthur could know how much sleep Eames had had in the last few days. He had to assume it wasn’t much. Arthur couldn’t imagine wanting to sleep. The dreams alone would frighten him too much. Arthur shuddered at the thought.

Downstairs, his parents were unusually quiet and Arthur tried to ignore them as he made a pot of coffee. It worked for all of five minutes.

“He’s very pretty, sweetheart.”

Arthur closed his eyes and counted to ten in his head. He knew it was going to come up at some point. His mom would automatically assume that there was something more between them, and as much as Arthur wanted that, he wasn’t sure that there was  _something_. There was no way he was going to tell her about how they met. That was an embarrassment he would take to the grave.

“Is he the friend that rang on Christmas?”

Arthur’s father hummed, his tone making Arthur feel like a child. Why couldn’t his mother keep anything to herself?

“Yes,” he clipped out as he poured himself a cup of coffee, hoping that the conversation would be dropped.

“So, is he your boyfriend?”

“No, Mom, God— It’s not like that at all,” he choked out the words, stumbling over them in his haste to put his mother right.

It was right at that moment that Eames walked into the kitchen, running a hand through his hair. Arthur took a gulp of his coffee, wincing as it burned its way down his throat. If his mouth was full, there wasn’t any chance he could make things worse.

“Is that coffee?” Eames asked, pointing unnecessarily to the pot next to Arthur.

Arthur nodded and poured out a cup for Eames. He took it without a word and left the room as silently as he’d entered it.

The silence with Eames out of the room was deafening and Arthur was pretty sure he could hear the disapproval radiating off his mother. He risked a glance at his mother and found her staring at him, her mouth a thin line of disappointment.

“Arthur, sweetie, I know how clever you think you are, but if you don’t go up there right now,” she said, leaving the threat unsaid. His imagination was wild enough to fill in what she would do if he didn’t go and talk to Eames.

“Ok,” he sighed and grabbed his mug, trudging up the stairs.

Eames was in the guest room, changing into clean clothes and packing away the pyjamas he had slept in.

Arthur hovered in the doorway. “Eames, I’m not sure what you heard,” he started.

“Didn’t hear anything, love. I’ve booked a hotel room so I’ll be off.” Eames didn’t look over at Arthur once while he was talking.

“Eames, you don’t have to.”

“It’s fine. Thank you for letting me stay.” Eames grabbed his bag and made to leave the room but Arthur was blocking the way.

Arthur refused to move even though Eames was staring straight through him, clearly trying to move Arthur by sheer force of will.

They stayed that way until Eames gave in, dropping his bag and flopping backward onto the bed. “This is stupid.”

“More stupid than flying five thousand miles on a whim?” Arthur countered, moving to the desk to put his coffee down. He leaned against the desk, crossing his arms as he watched Eames cover his face with his hands.

“I wanted to see you,” Eames replied, voice slightly muffled.

“That’s very flattering, but that can’t be the only reason.”

Eames shook his head, his hands dropping to the bed. “So what if it is?” Eames looked over at Arthur, his direct gaze daring Arthur to say something. When Arthur didn’t, Eames’ gaze drifted to the ceiling. “I can go. It’s not trouble. Maybe I’ll head back to campus.”

“No, Eames. It’s ok.” Arthur pushed off the desk and moved to the bed, sitting down next to Eames. “Let’s get out and do something.”

It took a while, but eventually, Eames nodded, smiling softly at Arthur.

Arthur couldn’t take it though, couldn’t take the softness of the moment so he did what he was great at. Ruined the moment by punching Eames in the shoulder. “Have a shower. You stink.”

Thankfully Eames took it well, barking out a laugh, his eyes crinkling as he looked up at Arthur.

Arthur smiled at Eames, cheeks dimpling as he grabbed his coffee and headed downstairs where he tried desperately to ignore the smug smile his mother was shooting at him.

 

They ended up in Santa Monica. It was the closest beach Arthur could think of and he actually enjoyed it there. Plus Eames had never been, so Arthur was ever so slightly thrilled that he could show Eames around.

“Well, now that you’ve got me here, what are you going to do with me?” Eames winked, grinning at Arthur when he blushed.

It wasn’t his fault his imagination was particularly overactive after waking up being spooned by such an attractive guy.

Arthur cleared his throat and smiled. “Well, we could go down to the beach. But, if you’re hungry, I know the perfect place.”

“Food. Always food, love. Lead the way.” Eames held out a hand, gesturing for Arthur to quite literally lead the way.

Thankfully, Cora’s Coffee Shoppe wasn’t too busy when they arrived. They were seated at a table out on the patio under a bougainvillea canopy. It was part of the reason why Arthur had brought Eames there. The patio was gorgeous though Arthur had to wonder if it screamed ‘date’ a little louder than he thought it would.

“What do you recommend, hmm?”

“Oh, um…” Arthur stared at the menu in his hands. It had been a while since he’d been at the restaurant but it all seemed familiar. “Everything?”

Eames laughed, eyes crinkling in a delightful way Arthur couldn’t get enough of.

They were saved from having to continue that conversation by a waiter taking their order. Arthur decided on a vegetable omelette with arugula salad while Eames got blueberry pancakes. Arthur didn’t miss the smirk Eames shot at him either, he just chose to ignore it in favour of trying to keep his cool and not think about what it might mean that Eames had ordered blueberry pancakes.

After the drinks were delivered and their conversation had petered out into a comfortable silence, Arthur got a waft of Eames’, the wind blowing it straight into Arthur’s face. It wasn’t the first time he’d noticed the smell since they’d been out either. It was that Arthur only realised that the scent was familiar and  _why_ — it was Arthur’s smell.

“Did you use my shampoo?” He blurted out a little loudly.

Eames grinned, leaning back in his seat. “Took you long enough,” he said with a smug sip of his tea.

* * *

 

Eames stayed for three more days before heading back to Connecticut. Arthur had tried to convince Eames to stay at least until after New Year’s but Eames didn’t want to wear out of his welcome, no matter how nice Arthur’s parents had been. It was an argument Arthur hadn’t been able to win.

Logically, Arthur knew Eames couldn’t stay for the entirety of Winter break, but with Eames actually gone, Arthur didn’t know what to do with himself. They had fallen into a comfortable routine of spending the days together — Arthur got to show off his favourite old high school haunts and Eames pretended to be interested. If he was honest, Arthur had loved being able to share those places with someone and it had felt like things were progressing in the relationship department.

It was probably mostly because Eames had slept in Arthur’s bed every night. They didn’t do more than cuddle, but Arthur had been alright with that. He wouldn’t dare try anything with his parents down the hall no matter how desperate he was.

 

Arthur ended up at someone’s house on New Year’s Eve. He wasn’t sure whose house it was, but there were people he knew. A friend he’d gone to high school with had dragged him out, promising a fun night with plenty of booze. Without anything better to do, Arthur had agreed and now he was five drinks in with his phone in his hand.

The time said it was a few minutes to midnight but it wasn’t until the phone was up to his ear, ringing that Arthur even thought about the time difference. He decided on leaving a voicemail.

But Eames answered, voice a little rough.

“You weren’t supposed to answer.”

“Arthur?”

“You were supposed to be asleep, why aren’t you asleep?” He was basically yelling, trying to talk over the noise of the party even though he had gone outside to make the call.

“Someone rang me.”

Arthur hummed. “Oh, who?”

“You’re pissed,” Eames chuckled.

“What? No, I’m not.”

Someone called out Arthur’s name, trying to get his attention but Arthur just waved them off. He wasn’t done with his call.

“Are you at a party, love?”

“Yeah,” Arthur said through a smile. He would never tell Eames, but really liked the pet names. He was pretty sure it wasn’t something special for Arthur, but he liked to pretend it was.

“And you rang me, hmmm?”

Arthur nodded. It took him few seconds to remember that Eames couldn’t actually see him and he hummed an affirmative. “See, it’s New Year’s Eve and I’ve never had anyone to kiss at midnight and I thought, since there was someone I might wanna kiss, I could do the next best thing. Ring them.” He could feel himself rambling and knew he would regret the conversation if he was lucky enough to remember it at all.

It was right at that moment that everyone called out a thoroughly exuberant “Happy New Year” and Arthur missed Eames’ response. It was also the moment his friend chose to come over and take his phone out of his hand.

Arthur protested, grabbing for the phone as his friend said something into it before hanging up and dragging Arthur back into the throng of the party.

 

Several hours later, Arthur clutched at his toilet while the bathroom spun dangerously. He was vainly attempting to hold down every ounce of alcohol he had consumed. It wasn’t working.

After several heaves into the toilet, Arthur flushed and leant against the wall, eyes slipping shut.

He didn’t notice his phone vibrating away in his pocket.

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters in a week? I've had more time than usual to write!  
> So hopefully it's turned out well. I'm not sure anymore.
> 
> This is my first attempt at proper smut so I'm sorry!  
> Be gentle with me.  
> And you may have noticed that I've upped the rating to explicit, just to be safe.  
> Sorry if I misled anyone.
> 
> As long as everything goes to plan, there's going to be one more chapter.  
> Then this ride will be over!
> 
> Thank you to everyone that's still reading.

Arthur shoved his suitcase against the wall as he fished for his keys.

The hallway was so full Arthur was sure he was going to get trampled. All he wanted was to get inside his dorm and away from the noise. His flight had been delayed which meant Arthur had been stuck at the airport for four hours more than he had planned for. Now Arthur was starting to feel like he would happily live without seeing another person for the rest of his life.

Finally, Arthur slipped the key into the door and opened it, letting it swing open as he grabbed his suitcase. It wasn’t until he was half in his dorm that he noticed the small piece of paper with his name scrawled in block letters across it pinned to the board.

Arthur frowned and ripped it down, kicking the door closed behind him.

He waited until he was sitting on his bed before opening the paper.

> _ Coffee? _
> 
> _ E _

Arthur frowned at the paper, turning it over in the vain hope that there might be more hidden somewhere else. He had thought that the first bit of communication between them since Christmas would have involved more words or even a face to face conversation. But this was all he got.

Arthur sighed, flopping back on his bed. It was tempting and Arthur got as far as pulling out his phone before he decided against sending a text. He had nothing planned for the rest of the day, so Arthur grabbed his keys and phone and headed to the coffee shop. Where else would Eames want to meet for coffee?

 

An hour and two coffees later, Arthur was feeling like an idiot. There hadn’t been a set time or place and it was his own damn fault for feeling like he was stood up. But it was how he felt. It was also the reason why Arthur sent a text as he left the coffee shop, determined to not get caught up in Eames this semester.

> _ No thanks. _

Every day, when Arthur finally made it back to his dorm after classes, there was a note waiting. He would read them, his manners wouldn’t let him throw them away without reading them first. But all of the notes were the same —  _ Coffee? E. _

Each of them ended up torn and in the bin.

While Arthur found Eames’ persistence annoyingly endearing, he was getting sick of the notes, the talking without actually talking. He would much rather have action at this point and he wasn’t going to tell Eames that. Eventually, if Eames was really interested, he’d figure it out. Or at least Arthur thought he would.

But Arthur wasn’t going to get his hopes up. He needed to focus on his classes and a part of him wished Eames would just give up on Arthur. Then he could continue feeling angry instead of letting his embarrassment swallow him whole.

Arthur remembered enough of the phone call from New Year’s which made it more of a problem that Eames hadn’t shown his face yet. Just those annoying little pieces of paper.

After every note, Arthur let his mind wander, thinking about what might happen if Arthur did take Eames up on his offer. But no matter how the scenario started, it always ended up with Eames letting Arthur down easily, trying to be polite but ultimately Arthur would be alone.

So Arthur continued to tear the notes up.

* * *

Ariadne turned up at Arthur’s dorm the next Saturday, a note in her hand.

“This was on your door,” she said as she passed a piece of paper to him. “You’re not going to open it?” She asked as Arthur tossed it onto his desk.

“No. It’s nothing,” he clipped.

“It was pinned to your door.”

“Not important.” Arthur tried to ignore her and focused on his laptop, tapping away at basically nothing.

“I’ll open it.” She reached for it but Arthur was faster, grabbing it first and shooting her a wide-eyed look as she backed away to sit down. “I can read it and tell you if it’s worth you reading it.”

It isn’t such a bad idea but he was sure it would just be the same as all of the others. She didn’t need to see that.

Arthur shook his head, let out a huge sigh and opened the note. He frowned down at it. Well, there were more words.

“What’s it say?” Ariadne asked eagerly, practically bouncing on the bed.

“Just a time and place.” Arthur put it back on his desk, briefly thinking about tossing it into the bin like he had the others.

“You gonna go?”

“No,” Arthur snorted.

Ariadne let it go and Arthur was grateful. He hadn’t told her what had happened over Winter break and he wasn’t ready to hash it out just yet.

They spent the day watching terrible movies on Arthur’s laptop, curled up on the bed together and eating crap food.

 

Hours later, Ariadne left, complaining that Arthur didn’t have any real food.

Without any distractions, Arthur went to his desk and pulled up a paper he’d been working on.

He was twenty minutes in reading over his paper and making adjustments when there was a knock on his window. He jumped, almost knocking his laptop off his desk and looked over with a groan.

Eames was there with his stupid grin and his stupidly obscene lips that made Arthur remember what they felt like pressed against his.

Arthur looked away and started typing furiously on his laptop but Eames wouldn’t let up. He knocked again, and again, and again until Arthur finally relented and went to the window unlatching it with a glare.

Eames stood there, hands stuffed in his coat, glancing around. “Can I come in? It’s freezing out here.”

Arthur stared at him for a moment. After all those notes, Eames was actually there asking to come into his dorm. Sure, it wasn’t through the front door, but Arthur had wanted some sort of action.

Arthur stepped back and gestured with his arm, letting Eames in.

Eames climbed through the window with more grace than anyone should have had.

Suddenly with Eames in his room again, Arthur felt as though all the air had been sucked out of the room. Arthur stood against his wardrobe in an effort to put as much room between them as possible.

“What are you doing here?” Arthur croaked.

“Did you get my notes?” Eames lightly dragged his fingers over the things on Arthur’s desk, waiting for a response, and picked up the note in question. Eames flicked his gaze to Arthur.

The hint of accusation in Eames’ eyes made Arthur angry. Who was he to judge Arthur for a little self-preservation? “What are you doing here, Eames?”

“You didn’t show. I was worried.” Eames replied, placing the note back on the table and moved to Arthur’s bookshelf. His fingers trailed along the spines, looking for all the world like he was browsing in a library, not having an awkward conversation.

Arthur couldn’t help but track the movement. Eames was still utterly captivating, no matter how much Arthur wished he wasn’t. “You honestly thought I would go after - ?” Arthur cut himself off before he could say more.

“After?” Eames turned to face Arthur, waiting for him to continue.

“New Year’s.”

“Ah.” Eames nodded and turned back to the bookshelf.

Arthur waited for a moment, hoping Eames would say more.

When it was clear Eames wasn’t going to speak, Arthur opened his mouth. “The phone call.”

Eames turned to face Arthur again, leaning against the bookshelf and crossing his arms.

Heat flushed up Arthur’s cheeks when Eames just looked at him instead of speaking. He knew Eames remembered the call and figured Eames was just here to let him down easy. He probably wanted to do it somewhere other than Arthur’s dorm and that was what the notes were about. Arthur ruined those plans and something snapped. He never asked Eames for anything. Never asked Eames to be nice to him. Never asked for any of this. Eames was the one to send that note at the coffee shop.

Arthur pushed away from the wardrobe and started to pace, words flowing out of his mouth before he could process his thoughts. “We didn’t define anything. I get that.” Arthur dragged a hand through his hair, gripping it a little as his thoughts crashed against each other. “But see, I thought we had such a great time after Christmas. It sure as shit seemed that way to me.” Arthur glanced over at Eames. There wasn’t emotion showing on his face, but Arthur didn’t stop. “Then I called you, drunk, and then there was nothing. No calls. No texts. Nothing. And I thought, well, what did you expect? What could he possibly need you for? He’s got a million other people he can turn to. So I let it go.” Both hands slid through his hair now, his agitation slipping out. “But see, you were there. In the back of my mind. Taking up space. Always there. And that note.” Arthur shot Eames a look. “I mean really, who does that anymore? Telling me to be somewhere at a certain time. I’m not an idiot. But for a while, you had me fooled. I really did think —” Arthur paused, unable to express his true feelings, words failing him.

Arthur stopped pacing and barked out a harsh laugh. He faced Eames, their eyes meeting and Arthur thought, fuck it. Eames was gorgeous and if he was honest with himself, it would probably be the best sex of his life.

Arthur crossed the room in a few short strides and crashed into Eames, kissing him forcefully.

Eames made a shocked noise but returned the kiss, his hands dragging Arthur closer to him.

Arthur gasped at the contact, throwing his head back.

Eames kissed his way to Arthur’s throat, nipping and licking at the exposed flesh as he led Arthur to the bed.

Arthur fell back onto his elbows and looks up at Eames through his lashes. He could see the hesitation written on Eames’ face and Arthur briefly wondered when he started being able to read Eames.

Arthur sat up and pulled his shirt off, throwing it away, not caring in the slightest where it landed. He didn’t want to give Eames a chance to back out of this, not when he was so close to getting what he wanted. Arthur started on his pants, managing to get the button undone before Eames crashed into him, a mess of lips and teeth as he pressed Arthur into the mattress.

Eames rolled his hips, grinding their clothed erections together.

“Eames,” Arthur moaned, pleading for more.

Eames’ fingers trailed along the open waist of Arthur’s jeans as he nipped at Arthur’s throat, little teases of teeth that went straight to Arthur’s cock.

Just as Arthur opened his mouth to demand more, Eames slipped his hand into Arthur’s briefs. His knuckles brushed against Arthur’s cock and Arthur hissed, his hips lifting into the contact.

It didn’t take long for Arthur to get frustrated with the teasing little touches. He growled, hands reaching for Eames’ fly. He fumbled with the zipper but managed to get it and Eames’ pants down far enough to wrap his hand Eames’ cock.

“Arthur,” Eames breathed, hips stuttering in Arthur’s grip as his arms caught him before he crushed Arthur.

With Eames distracted, Arthur used his free hand to help wriggle his pants down far enough to free his own cock. As soon as he managed it, he grabbed at Eames, dragging him down to press their cocks together.

They both groaned as Arthur wrapped his fingers around both of their cocks, sliding his thumb over Eames’ slit to spread pre-come.

“Fuck,” Eames panted, arms shaking with the struggle of holding himself up.

Arthur leaned up just enough to capture Eames’ lips, licking his way into Eames’ mouth as his hand sped up.

He could feel his orgasm building already and judging by the broken noises coming from Eames, he was pretty close as well. So Arthur picked up the pace, tipping his head back in a moan as Eames’ hand joined his.

It was intoxicating, the way Eames was grinding against him. There was only Eames, his smell, his weight pressing Arthur into the mattress. Arthur wasn’t going to last.

“I’m gonna—”

Eames captured Arthur’s warning in a kiss, all tongue and teeth, but it was enough to push Arthur over the edge, shuddering as he came.

Eames’ hips sped up, chasing after his own completion. His hips jerked a twice before he came, crying out Arthur’s name.

Eames collapsed next to Arthur, their sides pressed together.

Both of them were panting loudly and Arthur knew they needed to talk but he couldn’t bring himself to open his mouth.

After a few minutes, Arthur managed to climb off the bed and pull his jeans all the way off. He cleaned himself with a towel, tossing it into his hamper before slipping his briefs up properly and climbing under the covers on his bed.

Eames tucked himself away and adjusted his clothes before settling next to Arthur on top of the comforter, neither of them daring to break the silence.

Arthur rolled onto his side, facing away from Eames but Eames dragged him back, his arms enveloping him in warmth. Arthur wanted to protest, wanted to not be reminded of Winter break but his orgasm had left him drowsy and he couldn’t form the words. So he closed his eyes and let Eames’ warmth and even breathing lull him to sleep.

* * *

Arthur woke to the sun shining through his window. Luckily it wasn’t on his face but he figured he had half an hour before it was. He pulled the comforter around him tighter to ward off the chill in the air. It was only because of this that Arthur sat up, the night before flashing through his mind.

“Eames?” He called out.

There wasn’t a response and while he shouldn’t have been surprised, Arthur was hurt. Why had he let things go so far? Arthur groaned and buried his head under the comforter, refusing to acknowledge his idiocy anymore.

Arthur was almost asleep when a burst of chatter forced him out of his cocoon. He frowned, convinced that the group was in his room. Instead of finding people, Arthur’s eyes landed on his window. It was open a fraction.

It didn’t take him long to put it together. Eames hadn’t even used the front door to leave, he’d climbed out the window. That was going to do wonders for Arthur’s self-esteem.

Arthur groaned and climbed out of bed, shivering at the cold as he closed the window and curtains, hoping he wasn’t giving anyone too much of a show.

Glancing over at his bed, Arthur’s mind wandered to what had happened. Despite knowing it was wrong, his dick twitched at the memory. Arthur pulled all of the sheets off the bed and threw them into his hamper. It was satisfying, but Arthur’s hamper was full. At least he had something to do with his day instead of thinking about Eames.

Arthur decided it was going to be the first step on the way to not thinking about Eames at all. He’d gotten whatever it was about Eames out of his system. Now he could focus on the rest of his senior year.

Well, that was what he hoped as he slipped on comfortable clothes and took his hamper to the laundry room.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to somedrunkpirate, earlgreytea68, swtalmnd, and pinkys_creature_feature who put up with my whining in slack and helped me talk through this chapter.  
> Without them, this chapter wouldn't have come to be
> 
> Thank you everyone in slack that cheered me on and sprinted with me!
> 
> Also thank you freudhood who helped out with the French in this chapter. There isn't much but still, I appreciate it greatly!
> 
> As always, this chapter is unedited (so sorry) so there are probably a million mistakes!  
> I hope you like it anyway.  
> It's the last proper chapter but there'll be an epilogue coming very shortly (I mean it this time).
> 
> Thank you to each and every one of you that has read, kudos'd, and commented on this fic!  
> It had meant the world to me.

Arthur banged his head against the desk. He’d been studying for hours, trying to jam as much information into his head as he possibly could, but he was running out of steam. His caffeine supply had run out an hour ago and Arthur was running purely on the remnants. He contemplated sending Ari a text, asking her to refill his supplies but he knew she was in just as bad a situation as him, if not worse. She had a whole portfolio to put together — Arthur just had to stop thinking in French long enough to write a paper in English. It was turning out to be much harder than he had first thought. Not to mention that his thoughts kept turning to a certain English idiot that Arthur hadn’t heard from since their night together.

It was one of the few things Arthur didn’t actually regret about their relationship — he sort of regretted how everything played out to end how it did, but there wasn’t much else. What he missed the most about Eames was how things had been over Christmas. The easy way they’d fit together over those few days was still one of Arthur’s favourite things.

Arthur opened the top drawer of his desk and pulled out his phone, switching it back on. There wasn’t ever anything from Eames, no texts or missed calls, but Arthur still checked most days. It was almost a ritual now — check if there were any messages, debate whether or not he should send a message — but Arthur always resisted the urge to contact Eames. He knew it wasn’t worth the effort to make the first contact. He also didn’t want to be ignored and Arthur would have no way of knowing if Eames was ignoring him or just couldn’t reply. It was easier to just not try.

Arthur sighed and shoved his phone back in the drawer, closing it more forcefully than was necessary. There wasn’t time in his schedule to wallow over some stupid theatre nerd, no matter how desperately he wanted to.

It wasn’t getting any easier, not thinking about Eames. Though the resurgence in feelings most likely had something to do with the fact that Arthur had found out Eames had left the country a few days ago to go back to England. Arthur didn’t know if it was a permanent thing or not and couldn’t find anyone to give him any details. He had no idea who Eames was friends with and couldn’t bring himself to go near any of the theatre kids looking like some sort of crazy stalker.

With his thoughts so stuck on Eames, Arthur knew there was no chance he was going to be able to continue studying for the evening. He pushed away from his desk and stood, stretching out his back and savouring each and every little pop. He really needed to get back into doing yoga regularly. When finals were over, he promised himself he’d start up again.

Arthur changed into his pyjamas, a pair of grey sweats and an old t-shirt, before climbing into bed. It was only eleven at night, the earliest Arthur had gone to bed in over a month but the fact that it was earlier didn’t mean Arthur was going to find it any easier to go to sleep.

With a sigh, Arthur reached over to his bedside table and grabbed his iPod, shoving the earbuds into his ears and opened the playlist from the previous night. Spotify had deemed it the perfect playlist to fall asleep to and while Arthur did agree with that assessment, he just wished it also helped with his dreams.

Every single night Eames was there in his dreams, taunting him by being just out of touching range. It was frustrating and left Arthur wanting in the mornings.

Arthur sighed, slipping under the covers properly and resigned himself to the fact that it would be months before he could sleep without dreaming of Eames again. It wasn’t exactly the worst thing in the world, but Arthur could think of more useful things to dream of — like finally being offered an internship with the UN.

Instead, Arthur fell asleep to peaceful piano tracks and dreamt of Eames saying his name over and over again.

* * *

Arthur huffed out a frustrated breath. How was it that he’d completely underestimated how long his professor would ramble on for? He was an hour behind schedule and was going to have to skip dinner to catch up now. There wasn’t any time to lose, he had every minute accounted for and this old codger had completely screwed everything up.

He’d planned his day so he could get out of the office and miss the rush of students, but now he was right in the middle of them all as they tried to escape the rain. He was trying to push through the throng when someone grabbed his arm and pulled him off to the side, out of the crush of people.

Arthur breathed a soft sigh of relief, ready to thank the person that had saved him when his eyes fell on Eames.

“Goddamnit,” he groaned, closing his eyes and banging his head back against the wall. “Perfect. Just perfect.”

“I owe you an explanation.”

“Please, don’t.” Arthur refused to look at him as he desperately tried to find an opening in the crowd that would carry him away from Eames, carry him anywhere at all.

“Can we go somewhere and talk?” Eames asked.

“Really, let’s just not,” Arthur said and slipped into the crowd, letting it lead him away from Eames. He didn’t really care where he ended up as long as it was far away from the idiot.

When he was finally outside, Arthur took a deep breath, savouring the fresh air. Arthur looked over his shoulder just to make sure he wasn’t being followed. Not seeing anyone, Arthur hurried through the rain back to his dorm, desperate to get somewhere he could think in quiet.

He closed every curtain in his room and locked the door before collapsing backward onto his bed, his mind racing a mile a minute. When had Eames gotten back? How had he found Arthur? Why had Arthur run away?

“Fuck,” he muttered, dragging a hand down his face. “Fuck,” he repeated and fished his phone out of his trousers pocket, typing up a quick message to Ari to come and rescue him from his stupidity.

 

Ariadne’s rescue ended up dragging him off to a party. Her reasoning was that Arthur just needed to get Eames out of his system by sleeping with someone else.

Arthur loved that she was trying to help and didn’t want to tell her that nothing short of a miracle was going to cleanse him of Eames. The guy was so deep in Arthur’s mind he wondered if he’d ever get rid of him.

In the end, Arthur did take someone home — a guy with pretty blue eyes and cheekbones Arthur wanted to cut himself on.

It still wasn’t enough to drive Eames from his thoughts.

* * *

Arthur tugged at the sleeve of his gown. He hated wearing the things and couldn’t wait to get out of it, promising himself he’d never have to wear one ever again. What was the point in wearing the best suit he owned — a navy blue three-piece with a light windowpane check pattern that was tailored perfectly for him — if he had to cover it up with the drapey gown? Not to mention what the cap was doing to his hair. He mentally played through how much longer of the ceremony there was and groaned, realising they were barely halfway through.

How did they expect anyone to sit through these things?

The speaker was boring and someone Arthur had never even heard of. Not to mention he was pretty sure someone in the row behind him was drinking a bottle of vodka. Who did that in public at a graduation? But Arthur had to give the guy credit, at least if he was drunk, the speech had a chance of being more interesting.

The only thing that redeemed the commencement was that Ari was sitting next to him. Arthur was never more grateful that they were in the same school. She had been leaning over every few minutes, another witty remark about the current speaker at the ready.

“Are you asleep yet?”

Arthur chuckled and nudged Ari with his elbow. “Another five minutes and I might be. Do you think that’s their plan?”

“I’m pretty sure she’s asleep,” Ari said, pointing out a blonde two rows in front of them whose head was hung low. Arthur figured she was either asleep or rather obviously using her cell. Either guess seemed just as likely.

Arthur sat a little straighter in his seat, scanning the crowd. He’d tried a few times already to spot Eames but had failed. It was near impossible to differentiate anyone with the stupid caps that all looked identical. Arthur had kept his off for as long as possible, refusing to ruin his carefully styled hair. But now that everyone was wearing the same thing, at least in his immediate vicinity, Arthur couldn’t spot Eames. It wasn’t that he wanted to seek him out. It was the opposite. Arthur wanted to know where Eames was purely so he could avoid him. He didn’t need to have an encounter with him while his parents were around. They were already asking too many questions about him.

“Be a little more obvious,” Ari hissed at him, pulling on his arm until he slouched in the chair again. “You’ll find him later.”

Arthur went to protest but the person on his other side hushed them, forcing Arthur to scowl at the commencement speaker, waiting for the ceremony to be over.

 

Arthur found his parents hidden away by a tree. They looked overwhelmed by the sheer number of people and Arthur felt the same. He honestly had never realised there were so many people in the same school as him and he felt bad for forcing his parents to be at the event.

“Oh honey, you looked lovely up there,” his mother gushed, pulling him into a tight embrace.

“Mom,” Arthur protested but wrapped his arms around her. He was happier than he had been in months. Being able to share this day with his parents was more than Arthur could have asked for, especially since they’d had to fly cross-country to make it when they easily could have just waited to see his diploma when he made it home for the summer.

“Do you think someone would take a picture of us?” she asked, leaning back to look up at Arthur.

He fought the urge to roll his eyes at her. Of course someone would, it was graduation. All around them people were having their pictures taken and Arthur would hazard a guess that someone would happily take a picture of them in exchange for taking a picture in return.

He was ready to go and ask a blonde he was sure had been in one of his classes when someone else offered.

“I can do that if you like.”

Arthur turned from his mother, his breath caught in his throat at the sight before him.

He’d seen Eames at the diploma ceremony so it shouldn’t have been as much of a shock, but Arthur had tried to keep track of him so they wouldn’t have this run in. It was unpleasant but Arthur’s mother just smiled, handing the camera over and explaining what she wanted.

Arthur kept his eyes on Eames as his mother came back, taking a spot on one side of him as his father joined on the other. Arthur smiled, his arms around both his parents as Eames took several pictures — “Just to make sure you get a good one.”

“We’ll give you two a moment,” his mother said, taking the camera and Arthur’s father off to the tree.

Arthur stared after his parents, mentally willing them to come back. This wasn’t what he wanted and Arthur was going to follow them when Eames grabbed his hand.

“I just wanted to come and congratulate you.” Eames smiled softly, his hand still in Arthur’s.

Arthur glanced down at their clasped hands, swallowing hard as he tried to force his mouth to work.

“You should get back to them,” Eames said, giving Arthur’s hand a squeeze before turning and walking away.

Arthur watched until he couldn’t pick Eames out of the crowd. He curled his hands into fists, quickly releasing them when he felt something crinkle. He smoothed out the small piece of paper and barked out a short laugh.

> _You should try decaf._
> 
> _E._

“Everything alright, sweetheart?” his mother asked, his parents both having come back when Eames walked away.

“Fine, Mom. Just fine.”

 

Arthur fiddled with the button on his jacket as he stood outside the coffee shop, debating whether or not he should go inside. It was an argument he’d been having with himself the whole way over from his dorm where he’d left his parents. He’d told them he had something he needed to do — which wasn’t a lie — and that he would meet them at the restaurant for dinner. He didn’t mention that if things played out well, they might have a guest for dinner.

There wasn’t a clear answer for what Arthur wanted to get out of talking to Eames. He was still under Arthur’s skin, trapped there with no intentions of going anywhere, but Arthur knew he needed to figure things out and talking to Eames seemed like a logical enough starting point.

Arthur squared his shoulders and pulled the door open, walking into the coffee shop. It was full of students that clearly wanted a break from the graduation ceremonies, no one seemed to be with their parents.

Sitting at Arthur’s usual table, Eames toyed with a cup, spinning it around on its edge. Arthur stood, watching Eames, wondering how long he’d been sitting there waiting. Surely someone from Eames’ family had come over for his graduation. Arthur frowned at the thought, maybe no one had come.

His thoughts were interrupted by Eames calling his name and waving him over like Arthur hadn’t seen him already.

Arthur took the seat across from Eames, finally noticing the grey herringbone suit he was wearing. It was paired with a blue and white striped shirt, dark blue tie, and pocket square with little splashes of orange. Arthur licked his lips. He’d never seen Eames so formal and it was messing with his plans to keep things strictly above the table.

“Thanks for coming,” Eames said, breaking through Arthur’s lust-addled thoughts.

“You didn’t think I would?”

“I hoped you would, but wouldn’t have blamed you if you didn’t.”

Arthur nodded. There wasn’t much to be said for that. It was practical and Arthur couldn’t find a fault. He wouldn’t have blamed himself if he hadn’t shown up either. But Arthur’s curiosity really had won out.

“D’you want something to drink?” Eames asked, glancing over at the counter as he got the barista's attention.

“A cappuccino, thanks.”

Eames ordered their drinks, an awkward silence falling over them as they waited.

Arthur ran a finger over the seam of his pants, his gaze on the table, wondering if he should try speaking first. He had a million questions but had no idea where to start. What was the most burning question he had? Would he actually be able to ask it?

“I’ve thought about how I should start this and what would be the best way to get it all out,” Eames said, beating Arthur to the punch. “But I never really figured it out and now you’re here, it’s much harder than I thought it would be. I mean, I owe you an explanation. I know I do, and I want to explain. But it’s kinda hard with you sitting there looking like that?”

Arthur frowned and glanced down at his suit. It was immaculate. “Like what?”

“Like you were put on this earth to torment me.”

“What?” Arthur’s head snapped up, eyes locking with Eames’.

Eames sighed and looked away. “Don’t worry.”

“Eames, are you going to explain or should I go?”

There was a pause long enough that Arthur thought it was his hint. A coffee may have been coming for him, but that didn’t mean anything. If Eames wanted him gone — which seemed odd since he was the one that invited Arthur there — then Arthur would go. No questions asked and he’d try his hardest to forget about the Brit once and for all.

“When I first saw you here, I was intrigued. Slightly terrified, but intrigued. You were ranting in all those different languages. They just flowed out of you as easily as breathing.” Eames sighed, his gaze still not on Arthur. “But you had this look… You were so alive, so captivated by what you were doing and I couldn’t take my eyes off of you.”

“Eames—”

“No, please don’t interrupt.” Eames looked at Arthur, his eyes burning so brightly Arthur shut his mouth, biting his lower lip just to keep quiet. “I wanted to know you. So I sent that note and kept sending them. It was a bit of harmless fun, yeah?”

Arthur wanted to argue, it wasn’t harmless fun. Look at him, did he look like he was having fun? But the barista interrupted, setting their coffees down in silence. Both Eames and he thanked the barista for the drinks, waiting for them to leave before looking at each other again.

“At my mum’s funeral, all I wanted to do was curl up beside you and hide from the world. You were the only person I wanted to talk to. So I jumped on the next flight. It was on then that I realised things weren’t as harmless as I wanted them to be.”

Arthur sipped at his coffee, it was still too hot to drink properly, but he had to do something with his mouth to stop from interrupting. It was too tempting, to blurt out that that was when he had felt something real between them as well. It was too tempting to forgive and forget without hearing the rest of what Eames had to say.

“When the semester started up again, you seemed so angry with me and I wasn’t sure what I’d done. I tried to talk to you and well, you know how that ended.”

“Yeah, you left in the middle of the night,” Arthur blurted out, unable to hold his tongue any longer.

“Arthur—”

“No, look,” Arthur said, setting his cup down on the table, “I get that things were casual and I was the one that started things that night. But you shouldn’t have slipped out like some thief. You didn’t leave or note or anything. Just up and climbed out the window. What the fuck, Eames?” Arthur noticed Eames’ wince but kept going, month's worth of frustrations finally slipping out. “Was I that horrible in bed, hmm? Or had you finally got what you wanted? Sleep with the dumb kid that’s so caught up in his own head he’ll never notice when I’m done with him.”

“Arthur—”

“Shut up, Eames. What was I to you? You flew all the way from London to my home. Who the hell does that? What were you playing at? If you wanted to fuck with my head, congratulations. You succeeded. I officially have no idea what the hell I feel any more.” Arthur’s hands clenched into fists, pressing against his thighs as his anger poured out of him. “You live in my head. I can’t get rid of you, no matter what I try. Sleeping with someone else doesn’t help. Alcohol doesn’t help. You are there constantly and I don’t know what that means.”

“Arthur,” Eames said forcefully, finally cutting his rant off. “You were perfect. Are perfect.”

Arthur snorted. “Yeah, right.”

“You have this look on your face when you’re sleeping like the world has finally given you everything you want. You’re content. But that night that I left.” Eames said the word softly like he was ashamed of what he’d done. “You said something in your sleep.”

Arthur groaned. He’d thought he’d fixed that little problem.

“Ah, so you know.”

“What did I say?”

“It wasn’t a whole sentence.”

“Stop stalling.”

“More like a one or two words.”

“What. Did. I. Say?”

“J't'aime”

Arthur dragged a hand over his face. “Merde…”

Eames smiled wryly at him. “And well… It’s a lovely sentiment. But I’m not sure if you’ve noticed or not, I’m not so great at commitment or anything. So I left and I thought if I left you alone, I might forget about you and what you said. But more time went on and you were still there. I still thought about you. I actually avoided this coffee shop, just in case you were in there.”

“You went back to England. You didn’t just avoid the coffee shop, you avoided the whole country!”

“That wasn’t my choice,” Eames stated.

Arthur rubbed his forehead, reminding himself to breathe. He needed to keep a level head for this and he was already ruining everything by running his mouth.

“I had to go help my dad with the kids. He was having a rough time with them after mum.”

“You don’t have to tell me.”

“No, no, it’s fine. Cards all out on the table, yeah?” Eames held out his hands, palms up as if they were his cards. He waited for Arthur to nod before continuing. “I figured you might hate me enough to not notice I’d gone back home and used it as an excuse not to talk to you. But when I came back and saw you in that hall, I had to talk to you. I wanted to fix things. If I could.”

“And that’s what you’re doing now?”

Eames shrugged, finally taking the time to have a drink of his coffee.

Arthur picked up his own cup, having mostly forgotten about it. It was cool enough to gulp down now and Arthur finished it off in only a few mouthfuls as he thought about everything Eames had said.

There had been a fairly logical explanation for everything, even Arthur had to admit that. But Arthur still felt like he was on the back foot like he didn’t have all of the information and he didn’t know the questions to ask for it.

“So, what do you want?” Arthur asked, keeping his eyes on his empty cup.

“I want another chance.”

“Don’t you think you’ve had plenty?” Arthur asked, raising his eyes to meet Eames’.

“Probably,” he chuckled. “But I’m serious, I want to be with you and I’ll do anything to prove it.”

Arthur bit his lip, the words sending a small thrill through him. He wasn’t sure exactly where during their conversation he had started to want this outcome, but somehow it was something he’d wanted to hear. How stupid was that? Get ignored for months and suddenly, one moment of spilling the beans made Arthur want to give in.

“It’ll take a lot to earn my trust again,” Arthur said, unwilling to let his own eagerness win.

“Anything you want, Arthur.”

“You should be careful offering things you can’t follow through on.”

“Who says I can’t, darling?” Eames grinned, clearly sensing Arthur’s resolve crumbling.

Arthur sighed, placing his cup on the table before standing and straightening his jacket. He took a few steps away from the table and when he didn’t hear Eames’ chair scraping back, Arthur turned to find Eames staring at him, his face like that of a kicked puppy. “Aren’t you coming?” Arthur tilted his head towards the door.

“Where?” Eames asked as he stood, following behind Arthur as they left the coffee shop.

“Dinner,” Arthur said, waiting for a few breaths before adding, “with my parents.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:  
> J't'aime - - Love you


	8. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short and sweet little epilogue to finish off this fic!  
> I hope you've all enjoyed this ride with me.  
> There may be little ficlets in the future, but I'm not sure.  
> I've got other fics I'm working on at the moment.
> 
> If you liked this fic (or want to try a different one of mine) go check out [Almost Home](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10576488/chapters/23371554).  
> A kid fic that features kindergarten teacher Eames.

Arthur laid out by the pool, head resting on his arms as he soaked in the warmth of the sun.

They had been in Nice for a week and had spent almost every minute of it holed up in their cottage. It was the first time in months that they’d truly had any time alone and Arthur wanted to savour every moment of it.

Arthur had landed a job as a translator for a private businessman named Cobb and that had taken up almost all of Arthur’s free time, leaving Eames alone most nights. Arthur had felt guilty about it and had planned the holiday to celebrate their one year anniversary. Eames had protested very loudly about the whole thing when he found out that Arthur had planned on paying for everything. Money had become a bit of a sore spot for them, but Arthur had tried to ease Eames’ annoyance with him by letting Eames choose where they went.

Eames had suggested Nice because his family had holidayed there a few times and he knew a pretty good place. Arthur had to admit that it was quickly becoming his favourite place in the world.

They’d basically done nothing for the week they’d been there. Both of them content to just laze around the cottage together in nothing but swim shorts, enjoying each others company.

Arthur had noticed that Eames had gotten tanned in the brief time they’d spent there and he was a little jealous. No matter how much time he spent in the sun, Arthur hadn’t gotten any darker. But he couldn’t really complain, not when he got to appreciate Eames’ body, like he was right at that moment.

Eames was climbing out of the pool, body glistening in the afternoon sun as water trickled off him.

Arthur pushed himself onto his elbows, unashamedly staring at his boyfriend as he tracked the droplets and their descent down Eames’ body as he walked over to Arthur.

“Shall we go out for dinner tonight, darling?” Eames asked as he flopped onto a chaise next to Arthur.

“We could always stay in,” Arthur suggested as his eyes raked over Eames’ body, continuing to follow the droplets of water as they traveled over Eames’ muscles.

“Arthur,” Eames hummed, “what will people say?”

“That we are clearly too busy having sex to worry about sustenance.”

Eames laughed, a full-bodied thing that shook the chaise beneath him.

Arthur smiled fondly. He loved this side of Eames. Seeing him relaxed and carefree was exactly what Arthur had wanted.

Eames had been having trouble getting auditions for anything and was starting to get pretty morose. The holiday had been a last resort to bring some happiness back into their relationship and Arthur was more than pleased with how things were going. If only he knew how to keep it when they were back.

“You pick somewhere to eat,” Arthur offered, laying his head back on his arms, closing his eyes as he relaxed again.

“Will you wear one of your suits?”

Arthur hummed in ascent.

“Will I get to peel you out of it?” Eames asked, hot breath tickling Arthur’s ear as he trailed his fingers along Arthur’s exposed back.

Arthur shivered and nodded.

“Perfect,” he said before nipping at Arthur’s ear, drawing a moan from him.

“Go shower, you tease,” Arthur said, shoving Eames off him. “You have to look presentable if you want to go out.”

Eames chuckled, pressing a quick kiss to Arthur’s lips before sauntering off into the cottage.

“And for god sake, don’t wear the salmon shirt,” Arthur called out, suddenly remembering the atrocious things Eames had packed for their holiday.

“Don’t burn out there, love,” Eames called back, completely ignoring Arthur’s worries. “I’ve got plans for you tonight.”


End file.
